Our New Divide
by Spylace
Summary: SG!AU Sam receives a solid B for his genealogy report which means no car for the 17 year old Witwicky. That's okay; he now has an F-22 perched on his lawn instead.
1. Prologue

**Title: **Our New Divide

**Rating: **T

**Summary:** Sam receives a solid B for his genealogy report which means no car for the 17 year old Witwicky. That's okay; he now has an F-22 perched on his lawn instead.

**A.N.:** Alright boys and girls, this is a basically a full on collision between the Shattered Glass universe and our beloved Bayformers. Yes, basically it's Autobots in place of the Decepticons and vice versa with everything else neatly in place... or not. You'll have to read and find out won't you? Would appreciate it if you left a review at the end thanks :d

The title is a WIP, I don't know why it is.

-

"Frag," Barricade swore as his shoulder erupted into a shower of sparks before disconnecting from the rest of his body. The severed limb fell to the earth, narrowly missing his companion who began shrieking in indignation at the lack of warning. "Oh shut up," Barricade said irritably at the smaller mech, "I got us this far haven't I?" an indecipherable jabber, "Need to call..." he cocked his head in confusion and groaned loudly as he fell to his knees. "The slagger disabled my communications array. Frag!"

Frenzy looked up at him dubiously, a single crimson optic scanning the police cruiser as his feet danced nervously in place. He scrambled up the other mech's side, mindful of the open fuse lines and circuitry that were still sparking. He began to chatter again, most of which went unheeded by the larger mech. Frustrated at the lack of assistance, he kicked Barricade's head—eliciting an angry snarl—and hooked himself up to the other Decepticon.

Barricade's processor settled into an uneasy standby as Frenzy maneuvered the massive body into the shadows. He cut off the flow of energon attempting to fuel the missing left servo and directed it towards areas that wouldn't lead to the mech bleeding out before help arrived. Noting that the damage to Barricade's communications array was beyond his repairing capabilities and would possibly lift with time, he pulled himself back, tapping his nimble fingers against the side of the other Decepticon's head. Barricade barely stirred—not a good sign. With a repressed sigh that could have only been inherited from his creator, he opened his own communication line and set an encrypted message to go out every half-breem.

He had barely managed to close off the major ruptures when Starscream arrived.

"Are you two insane?" The taller mech hissed, turning swiveling his hawkish face to see that they were alone. Barricade's optics brightened at the grated words, wincing at the underlying whine following them. "Even humans could intercept that message!" Faint flickers of light at his throat confirmed vocal processor damage—something that hadn't been there when the seeker had taken off that morning. Frenzy stared at him accusingly with his unsettlingly red optics. "You look like slag Barricade."

"Speak for yourself 'Screamer, you ain't looking that hot yourself either."

Starscream scowled at the nickname as he approached the wounded cruiser.

"Where were the two of you?"

"Frag, easy there, injured mech remember?" Barricade complained as he was stretched out on the ground. "Aren't you the one who's always going on and on about security? Are you sure you want to do this here?" the shorter Decepticon looked around warily at the surroundings. The piles of scrap metal and other junk would provide them some camouflage and alert them if anyone approached on foot but the damage on Starscream's armor suggested that the jet had tangled with some unfriendly aerial assault—unfriendly_ Autobot_ aerial assault to be precise, Barricade corrected himself grimly.

"Fool," Starscream replied terse, "have you been ignoring all system errors? Jazz got you good, external injuries, you're missing a limb, your left knee is about to give out, your communications array has been compromised, and you're bleeding to death, have I missed anything?"

Barricade feigned momentary concentration,

"How'd you figure it was Jazz? And no, think you've got them all but I'm going to ignore you all the same... SLAGGIT!!"

Barricade's body arched from its position on the ground, nearly breaking his backstrut in two. Frenzy tumbled down his chassis and into Starscream's awaiting talons. Frowning, the seeker picked the cassette up and placed him near the legs where he wouldn't get in the way.

"Answer the question,"

"Fine, fine! They're moving now, they know where the cube is... or they will soon enough anyways... and Optimus Prime." Starscream's hands paused momentarily, a tangle of fuses caught in his hands. Barricade felt the barest squeeze through the circuitry and felt himself cringe in mortal peril—just a little bit, never mind that the Decepticon second-in-command was a near pacifist. The mech hadn't been sure how the seeker would take to the discovery of his former benefactor but true to form, Starscream did not let anything slip and merely sighed before smoothing the lines back beneath his armor.

"They will...?" The taller Decepticon repeated flatly, "They do not have the location yet?"

"Don't sound so disappointed 'Screamer." A cord was ripped out with a rather vindictive pull. "It's because the humans don't know what the slag they have! The location is inscribed on a human relic. The human called _Ladiesman217_ possesses it currently."

"Will you be able to approach this... _Ladiesman217_?"

"With this form, I can approach anybody." Barricade boasted earning a skeptical look from the Decepticon second in command. The cruiser looked down at himself, noting that his fans had yet to shut off and there were incriminating sparks flaring from the oddest places. Oh and his paintjob was gone, his siren having fallen off sometime between the road and the junk yard--bye-bye days of playfully scaring human beings.

In the eyes of his comrades, the Chief Science Officer seemed to wilt upon himself.

Starscream sighed gustily,

"He couldn't have sent Blackout for this..."

"Cheer up 'Screamer," Barricade tried to grin through his dental plates. "'S not so bad."

-

Elsewhere,

"Well..." his father said, with barely disguised glee now that he wouldn't have to shell out measly two grand for the social welfare of his only child. "There's always next year right?"

Sam answered that question in the way only a teenager could when being denied one of their fundamental wants, he ignored his father and stared out the window for the entire car ride.


	2. The end of a bad week

**Title: **Our New Divide

**Rating: **T

**Summary:** Sam receives a solid B for his genealogy report which means no car for the 17 year old Witwicky. That's okay; he now has an F-22 perched on his lawn instead.

**A.N.:** Obviously I haven't found a new title yet. Might be slightly easier if I wasn't... OCD but... I've got a several more chapters to go right?

Barricade was a hard character to portray since I haven't seen anything except the movies concerning Bayformers and in Armada and G1, Barricade was pretty much your typical minor character that got shuffled off to the background. So I tried, with the whole SG theme but there's only so much you can do when the said transformer had little personality to speak of in the first place –palm face- As for Starscream, keep in mind that this _is_ Bayformers crossover(?) and he wasn't as blatantly treacherous in the movies compared to his G1 counterpart... if at all actually -thinks-

Thanks for the reviews everyone, they make my day everyday—

**reka1207 **– I loved the movie...s (actually just the first one) but plot? What plot? Humans will feature in this fic, to what extent, I'm not quite sure yet.

**Levannar **– Yes, I did change them on purpose.

**Eliza Acheron** – 'Screamer is not a Screamer without his null rays :o so yes, he will have them in here.

-x-

Barricade's engines hummed appreciatively as his projector flickered to life. His fingers became bathed in holomatter, looking unblemished and clean to the naked optic. But as soon as he took it out of the projector's range, the cracks and stains returned to haunt him. Wistfully, he looked at the fingers that had once never known anything but datapads and cubes of energon. Behind him, Starscream spared one optic to glance at the cruiser who seemed to have taken to amusing himself by dipping his fingers in and out of clusters of photons.

"Interesting." The mech commented, his voice a high-pitched whine with a gritty texture. By the time he had gotten to the last syllable, his vocals seemed to have closed up as though several gears had gotten stuck in them from the lack of lubricants. It was as Bonecrusher had so sulkily put it once—he sounded like a glitched cybercat caught out in the rain. Sparks shot out from beneath his chin and the Seeker started, just barely managing to catch himself from tearing out Barricade's arm again.

The said physicist shut his projector off and stored it beneath his chassis for later use. The broken lights on his legs blinked uselessly, the bulb finally popping off with a sizzle. Making sure Frenzy was still glued to his hip and deep in recharge, he calmly turned his head to face the stubborn look on the Decepticon Air Commander's face.

"You know, after you're done reattaching my arm we're gonna have a look see at your vocal processor."

Starscream made an exasperated clicking sound. This wasn't the first time his vocal processor had been fragged and it probably wouldn't be the last. He knew critical damage when he saw it and this was by far from being fatal. It would be inconvenient in the mean time if he kept spitting out sparks before his comrades though.

"My vocal processor's fine." Starscream dismissed. His talons severed the frayed ends of the wire as he painstakingly began to connect them one by one. Barricade didn't look particularly convinced and looked dubiously at the mass of cords that had spilled out from the ruins of his left arm.

"Well excuse me for fearing for my life when some blue jet keeps sending me threats about how he wants a certain trinemate be returned in one piece or else." Barricade grumbled as the neural lines reassembled themselves. The shorter Decepticon let out a sound akin to gasping when the wires became taut. Starscream carefully guided the reattached arm back into its proper place. The cogs whirled as they accepted the arm back into its socket. The wheel on Barricade's wrist spun fast and the ends of his fingers began to twitch back into life. There was a fresh cut of pain as his shoulder plate was welded back into one whole.

"Thunder is an idiot." Starscream mumbled, ducking his head. He slapped his talon against the repaired shoulder, "There, done. You have two arms... _again_."

"You go up against the slagger and let's see how many limbs you keep."

Barricade clenched and unclenched his fist, the wheel on top of his left wrist spinning wildly.

"I did," Starscream said, dry as dust. "And you might remember that I came back with five."

"Oh yeah..." Barricade snickered at the memory. "Alright, c'mon, your turn."

The taller Decepticon started to protest, rearing up to his full height with a clawed hand at his throat.

"Look, it's either I look at it now or have Devastator sit on you later for it."

Starscream sputtered and Barricade gently scooped Frenzy up with a hand and laid him down on top of a nearby refrigerator. Backed into a scrap heap, the Seeker scowled and stamped his pede in a brief but intimidating display before yielding to the other mech's cursory scans. The cruiser ignored the heavy dents in the plates of armor—Starscream would have to take care of that himself—and bit his glossa as he tried in vain to look at the vocal processor located beneath the Seeker's jaw. Chuckling at the toxic look the other scientist shot him; Starscream bent his knees, taking care not to seem too submissive. He tossed his head back, stretching out his neck as much as possible as Barricade shone light between the torn cables.

"Now what in the pits were you doing out there?" The cruiser asked, optics focusing on the fractures around the taller mech's voice box. Starscream's wings trembled from the ghostly light touches to his neck.

"I've scanned an F-22 raptor from a nearby military base. It's... primitive but adequate." Barricade nodded, he had researched enough about the planet's defensory mechanisms to be familiar with the line of jets.

"I thought your mug looked uglier usual." He teased, moving his lights to get a better look at Starscream's triangular form. His optics flickered green as he examined the Seeker's newly acquired exoskeleton. The Air Commander's body looked almost awkward, his shoulders and sweeping wings wide but his stomach and hips narrow. His thighs tapered off in to slim pillars that no longer stood straight and instead bent acutely at the knees. The rest of his legs ended in solid ankles and pedes that separated into four sections much like toes. Barricade switched off his sensors, unable to derive anymore information from the scans. The radar indicated a radical morph in the Seeker's frame, outside the external changes but the Seeker's upper torso was too densely packed for him to further penetrate.

Starscream glared but agreed distastefully "Yes..."

"Is that wise?" Barricade asked sharply,

"It... won't impede my movements much. At any rate, I refuse to be grounded."

The cruiser coughed something that sounded distinctly like—'_Seekers_'

"And the injuries?"

Starscream shrugged nonchalantly,

"Aerial bots, just three. Skydive and Slingshot were absent."

"Just three, couldn't you have just shot at them with your null rays? At that height, the impact alone would have finished them off."

"I... thought about it. But it isn't as though I can simply let an Autobot crash into organic communities."

"We're in the middle of a _war_ 'Screamer." Barricade reminded him firmly, putting a hand on the taller mech's shoulder. Starscream shot him a look, all good humor lost and the outer rims of his sky blue optics beginning to tarnish violet. The jet straightened himself, chest pushed out and arms slightly spread. The engine on his back surged to life, white-edged flames visible and the vents at his sides spitting out hot air. In an immediate reaction, the other mech raised his hands appeasingly and backed away.

"I am well aware of that _officer_." Starscream hissed, "But I did not take to the sky for the purpose of fighting the Autobots."

The Seeker did not like pulling rank, not to others—_especially_ those who knew him well. Even when he had taken the title '_Air Commander_' from his trinemate Skywarp, he had always differed to the older flyer. Everyone had wondered why the normally peaceable mech had done that, or why he had joined his brethren in the front lines at all. Everyone had their own opinions and the Chief Science Officer knew that sometimes even the jet's wingmates wondered why their reclusive third flew. But Barricade had been there in the beginning when they had picked up a seemingly innocuous stray from the ruined streets of Crystal City. He had been like a mech possessed, a mech with a desire to prove something. From the sidelines he had watched Starscream integrate himself into what remained of the proud Seekers and tear through the Decepticon ranks. A pacifist turned warrior, a scientist turned soldier, a Seeker turned killer. But truly, Starscream had never forgotten where he had originally came from.

—_An Autobot turned Decepticon._

Barricade knew when he had pushed too far so he settled himself for a long wait against a red pickup with broken windows. Frenzy slept on unawares. No doubt that the cassette would have shot him reproachful glares before running off to soothe the Decepticon second-in-command had he been awake. The little mech had taken liking to the Seeker ever since he had taken him and his twin for a flight out in the Martian skies. In the distance a dog barked but otherwise it was quiet. The silence was broken half a cycle later when Starscream admitted quietly,

"I cannot reach the Nemesis."

"But you're a _Seeker_, you..."

"I'm a Seeker, not _Soundwave_." Starscream snapped, "My communications device is designed to send short transmissions for relaying orders."

"Thundercracker?"

Starscream instantly pressed his talons against the golden glass of his canopy.

"He's alright; I would have felt it..." He grimaced. "I believe we are being sabotaged."

"Not like we weren't expecting it."

"Not by Autobots," Starscream's optics flickered. "...By humans"

"They don't have the technology for that." Barricade stated flatly.

"Do we really know that? You are a scientist; you know such possibilities are endless."

"What makes you sure?" But already, the cruiser's processor began to analyze the situation. The relative lack of inquiry into his impact site, the sudden increase of patrols—not by police cars—but armored trucks insulated with lead so that he could not scan them properly, the habit of Autobots of making themselves scarce when too many humans were about—especially when they weren't the type to worry about committing potential genocide. The Autobots were hiding, not just from them. The humans—the ones that knew—were hiding as well. He could feel a processor ache coming on at the similarities between Earth and Cybertron during the beginnings of war.

"You said that they have Optimus Prime and yet the human population remains. They're keeping him contained..." He threw Barricade a sideways glance. "Somehow."

The cruiser pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge.

"They know we're here."

-x-

It was a good thing that the very next day was a Saturday. Sam honestly did not think that he could stay home and listen to his parents planning to renovate the lawn with the two thousand dollars that should have been his car.

"You'd think that they'd buy their only son a single rundown and beat up car if not out of sheer pity but no..." the teen complained to himself as he rode his bike down the road. Abusing his bell as much as possible, he raced through the grass, barely missing more than one pedestrian on his trek down to the mall. When he got there, he saw that it was still early enough for the parking lot to have awesome parking spaces near the main building. Slowing down lest he get struck by a van with a soccer mom at the wheels, he twiddled his thumbs against the handle bar as a shiny 2009 Camaro drove past. He barely managed to suppress a whistle. And as he passed an empty space beneath a generous shade, he inwardly groaned, imagining his dream car there.

Maybe that was the problem—he wasn't looking at where he was going. When he came too, he was on the asphalt, dazed, with people laughing uproariously around him. Trent—the_ bastard_—was the culprit, waving his sneaker—there was a gum stuck on the bottom—in front of his face to tell him just how he had landed upside down with his bike pretending to be a pretzel.

"Trent you're such a jerk!"

At least someone agreed with him. Someone female, he wondered if he could...

"Aww c'mon babe, it's just a joke. Witicky's alright." The thuggish blonde's voice hardened slightly, "Right Wickity?"

"It's Witwicky." Sam corrected as he re-righted his world. Elbows skinned—check, knees skinned—check, possible brain damage—double check, wow he wondered if he could sue the other teen. He stumbled as he got up to the amusement of his audience. He bowed mockingly; no one would accuse him of not being a good sport, and wrestled his bike into standing. Something hit the ground with a dull clang. _Shit_—that sound inevitably meant that _something_ was broken and that was exactly what he didn't need right at that moment. His jaws rigid, he cursed the fates for not giving him a car, giving him a crappy standing in high school and leaving his virginity intact for 17 terrible years. Amidst the jeers, he began to bodily drag his _definitely_ broken bike from the entourage of classmates he had known way too long.

He really should have just gone over to Miles'.

-x-

He saw a brand-new yellow Camaro drive by and wondered if he could ever get a car like that.

"Hey! Umm wait up!"

Ladies man or not, Sam was not in the mood. If it was one of Trent's groupies he was about to tell her off.

Until he saw her that is,

He was a teenage boy; he was practically entitled to be capricious.

"Hi. Um... you forgot this."

She handed him the broken breaks for his bike.

"Oh um, thanks." He attempted a laugh as he turned it over in his hand. "Almost forgot about it..."

"Look," she said, tucking strands of loose hair behind her ears. "I'm sorry about Trent, he's..."

"It's fine... I'm sorta used to it."

He didn't mean for it to come out like that but didn't mind the guilty bite of her lips and look of pity set in her pale eyes.

"I'm Mikaela, Mikaela Banes."

"I'm Sam. _Witwicky_." He emphasized.

He squatted down, wondering where and how a break was supposed to fit. Not wanting to look like a complete idiot, he tried to stick one end against the jumble of bent aluminum around the bicycle chain. He got a hand smeared with grease for the effort.

"Here, um let me help."

"Uh sure"

Mikaela crouched beside him, perfectly manicured fingers wrapping around the broken breaks. As she worked he couldn't help his eyes from straying south.

"So are you new? Are you new to the school this year?"

"Um what?" Eyes jumping to her face which was luckily still turned away. "Oh no, we've been going to the same school since first grade."

"Ohh..." she nodded slowly, her brows creasing as she digested that bit of information. "Do we have any classes together?"

"Uhh History..." Sam replied, feeling his masculine pride shrink word after word, "social studies... language arts..."

"Oh I'm sorry, I just didn't recognize you."

"Umm that's okay, it's no big deal."

Indeed, not when one of the most popular girls in the entire school was going out of her way just to talk to him. He wondered if this was what it felt like to win a lottery, or a ticket to go out for dinner with someone famous.

"So uhh... isn't Trent going to wonder where you are?"

He then berated himself furiously as she got up with a small sigh, her tight t-shirt sliding back down her flat stomach.

"I don't care." She answered her eyes flashing defiantly. She withdrew a packet of tissues from her handbag, the kind people usually gave away for free at gas stations. She wiped her hands on them before belatedly offering him some. After thanking her he had to ask,

"Would you like me to walk you home... err from here to your house...?"

She looked surprised but pleased. Her slim eyebrows arched and she shifted her shoulder strap. For a moment, he thought she would say 'no' when she looked back towards the mall running her hand through her hair.

"... Sure"

They began to walk, Sam's bike between them. A yellow Camaro pulled up beside them, the one he could have sworn he had seen pass by _twice_ in the past ten minutes. The tinted windows rolled down. The interior of the car was dark, the radio flicking from station to station. The driver was a blonde young man in his early 20s. His brown eyes flashed up at them oddly, a wooden smile frozen to his face.

"Do you two require any assistance?"

-x-

**[1] **In this fic, Seeker's are just another subspecies of naturally occurring Cybertronians. Kinda like how Pomeranians are different from Doberman but they can technically breed with each other... technically. Depending on who's topping. Now I'm just getting carried away.

And I find it hard to believe that robots (for the lack of a better word) have functioning genders so Femmes will also be another subspecies, one that specializes in reconnaissance and guerilla warfare if the feats of the G1 girls are anything to go by. I'm guessing they do have reproductive capabilities but were not created for the sole purpose of having children. Wait, do Femmes even exist in this fic...?

**[2] **I find it odd that Rachet can get away with demolishing a baseball stadium. Getting into the atmosphere is one thing but when they left physical impressions of their landing in public places? Wouldn't that be considered a threat to national security? Also, the timing of the Sector Seven bothers me. They probably knew that the transformers were coming and were ready to deal with them. But the hostile manner in which they dealt with Bumblebee suggests that they would have never accepted the Autobots as potential allies.


	3. The beginnings of a terrible week

**Title: **Our New Divide

**Rating: **T

**Summary:** Sam receives a solid B for his genealogy report which means no car for the 17 year old Witwicky. That's okay; he now has an F-22 perched on his lawn instead.

**A.N.:** Happy Newy Years everyone! My Christmas was rather boring, thanks for asking, the fact that Christmas is not that big in Korea might have to do with it. It's all commercialization and an excuse to go out on a date or sleep in. It lost its appeal for me when I graduated high school -nods- _sleeping in_ is no longer an imperative.

Yeah and I changed the title, hopefully it sticks -hopeful-

Oh and by the way, if you guys haven't noticed already, I don't exactly own Transformers.

**Starfire201 **– Yeah, like I've said, I haven't had much contact with the Bayverse outside the film so thanks for that tidbit, it actually explains a lot. As for Barricade, I seem to be constructing his personality as I... go... hmm

**Kitsune Swift – **Thanks for clearing that up, I could have sworn that Ratchet was the one to crash into the stadium... I need to go to sleep earlier o.o

Thank you everyone else for the wonderful reviews ;D

-x-

"_Do you two require any assistance?"_

Samuel James Witwicky had read somewhere that the warning, 'don't talk to strangers', was detrimental to the development of a growing child. But when he saw the flat brown eyes and the wooden smile fixated right below on the face of twenty-some year old douchebag's (he was driving a brand new 2009 Camaro around a _shopping mall_, what else could he possibly be) face, he had never thought the words more appropriate. Mikaela seemed of a similar mind. She hid behind Sam's silhouette so that only the edges of her ice-colored eyes were visible to the strange man.

"Uhh..." Sam managed at last, shooting the stranger an uncomfortable look. Weren't perverts supposed to be old and ugly with a heavy beer gut around the middle? "We're cool, thanks."

"Are you positive?" The man pressed, leaning over towards the two teenagers. His eyes wandered over the teenager's body, eliciting a fresh outbreak of goose bumps down his spine. He felt like a fresh slab of ignorant pork at a—what was the word? He learned it in French class between failed bids to pick up chicks—charcuterie. "It looks... cumbersome."

Sam shared a look with Mikaela. He thought it likely that the man was either a human trafficker or at the very least a druggy looking for his next fix. Sam gave her a shaky nod and a reassuring smile before turning back to the man.

"We don't need uhh... assistance, thanks anyways."

"Come on Sam," Mikaela said in a falsely sweet—there was _no way _a girl that hot could possibly be interested in him right?—voice, belying the steely grip she had on his bicep. She dug her sparkly, pink nails in hard. "You promised to take me shopping today remember?"

There was a slight ripple across the man's lips as though he found their attempts evasion quite amusing. But it was done with a touch of scorn that felt unpleasant, as though the man was dealing with them out of unwanted necessity, as though he found them beneath him. Sam couldn't quite figure out what all that meant but he knew it confirmed the initial assessment—the man_ was_ a douchebag.

"Then you must be lost for you are going the wrong way. The shopping mall is in the... other direction."

"What seems to be the problem here?"

Sam thanked whatever deities that were listening several times over when a police car pulled up right behind the yellow Camaro. The stranger didn't so much as blink however and leaned back into his seat when the black-and-white door opened to reveal a dark-haired officer who stiffly got out of the car.

"No problems officer," the strange douchebag explained as the short but wiry man sauntered up and stared inside. "I was merely offering these two teenagers help to carry their burden more effectively."

"That so?" The officer said skeptically, looking to and fro from the yellow Camaro to the two teenagers. "Well then as an officer of the law 'round here, allow me to _assist_ these fine young children instead."

The stranger's eyes seemed to flash at the officer's proposition. His face remained impassive but managed to radiate displeasure that felt far more real than the smile he had forced earlier. Sensing the curiously tangible tension between the two, Sam nudged Mikaela with his shoulder and took a hesitant step forward. The stranger in the yellow Camaro did not look at them again. With a small nod to the officer, the man rolled up the tinted windows and drove off. Tension seemed to lift off the older man's shoulder in visible waves. Before they could run off however he said,

"Well come on then." Seeing the dubious looks on the teenager's faces he added in an undertone, "Let's get out of here before he comes back." The mention of the stranger was more effective than any threat might have been at that moment. The officer winced visibly as Sam's trashed bike was forcefully fit inside the empty trunk. Mikaela held back, unsure, but got in when Sam pulled her inside after seeing a flash of yellow around the corner.

"...You're not a cop are you?" Mikaela ventured at last as they merged with the traffic around the mall. They were glared at by the usual suspects of misdemeanor and felony but ignored in general as they blended in with the other patrol cars stationed there. Strangely enough, the girl seemed to relax after saying this and let go of the fierce grip she had on Sam's wrist.

"Why would you say that little lady?"

The man seemed way too happy for someone who had been accused of impersonating an officer of law.

"You didn't see anything." Mikaela said flatly. "No cop would go through the trouble of helping out two teenagers from a random guy."

Sam gave her an apprehensive look and whispered,

"But he just saved us from that _psycho_ back there."

"Unfortunately you are absolutely right."

Sam blinked,

"Wait what?"

"Who are you then? Did you know that guy in the Camaro?" She swallowed, "Who was he? What was he? When he leaned over the passenger seat, his hand..."

"Good eye" the not-officer approved quietly. After a moment he said, "By the way, you can call me 'Cade for now."

"Wait for now?" Sam then began to panic. "You said you're not a cop! Where are you taking us! Shit—" he saw the sign leading to the freeway. Mikaela's eyes were wide, she bit her lips and held her handbag close but thought better of it as the car began to go up to seventy and up.

"I imagine we'll be hanging out for a good while." Their would-be-kidnapper continued in the same cheery voice.

"Look," Sam said calmly, "let us go. We won't tell anyone."

"Tempting... but it doesn't matter either way. Say..." He suddenly asked in a sheepish undertone. "Are you by chance Ladiesman217?"

"...excuse me?"

-x-

The sky was a clear, cerulean blue—the kind that they had not seen since the dawn of war when Cybertron began to fail and the atmosphere had withered. And it was this wondrous blue they cloaked themselves against, unbeknownst to the ignorant beachgoers below. Tempted to wreak havoc but knowing better, the five jet-like shadows sped past the coast line and over the calm seas.

In the front, the Aerialbot leader Skydive rallied back and forth between his second Air Raid and occasionally Jazz, the Autobot second-in-command. Fireflight followed absentmindedly, flying headlong into the clouds and dispersing the cotton trails with his wings. Silverbolt lagged behind, several hundred meters below, persisted by acrophobia despite having a flight-capable alternate form. Slingshot teased him mercilessly, banking sharply away from where he had been behind Air Raid's tail to dart about the Concorde's narrow cabin. Unable to match the smallest Aerialbot's agility in the skies, Silverbolt merely made half-hearted growls with his engines and endured the barrage of insults. Skydive dimly noticed the formation breaking up but let it be. It was a well-deserved reward after chasing off Starscream the previous night.

''Bot at two o' clock.' Air Raid commed excitedly. Skydive reached out with his sensors knowing that the other fighter jet had a tendency blurt out findings without concrete proof. Moments later, he caught the falling object on his radar—not a flier, no _sane_ flier (if it was a flier, he would have to keep an optic on Air Raid to see that he didn't try a repeat performance) would fly through this planet's atmosphere at that angle, at that speed.

'I see it.' Skydive confirmed. He could feel his reckless second literally buzz with excitement as they pulled close. 'It's a protoform.' Quickly, the Aerialbot leader sent a databurst to Fireflight to prompt him, 'Any positive ID?'

The other jet's reply was almost lazy as he commed back,

'Scanning...'

Slingshot put his two cubes worth in as he darted in front of his brothers for a better view.

'If it's a 'bot, can we let it have Silverbolt's spot? It flies better than he does!'

'Shut up Slingshot.' Silverbolt grumbled crankily, engines starting to emit black smoke.

'Make me, you overgrown robo-chicken.'

Slingshot fell back, his wings poised to strike the Concorde's cockpit. At the moment Fireflight's sensors bleeped three times.

'That's a negative; it's a 'con.'

Slingshot immediately swerved away from his bigger brother.

'Sweet! Can we shoot it down?'

'I don't see why not.' Skydive replied indulgently.

'Alright, last one there's a Silverbolt!'

The three of his sleeker, smaller—_stronger_—brothers swiftly raced towards the enemy protoform. Fireflight, distracted by yet another cloud brushing against his body asked more out of habit than actual concern,

'Coming Silverbolt?'

'Go ahead; think my thrusters are still fragged.'

Silverbolt tried to keep up. But his engines burned wearily from the prolonged flight and he was not all that interested in shooting down a helpless protoform in the first place. Back on Cybertron, he happened to be a low-flying shuttle that had been dismantled to create as a part of what would later be known as 'Aerialbots'. Unfortunately, his origins as a shuttle-drone meant that he still shared many of its initial coding—namely the aversion to heights. Ratchet had tried to purge his shuttle programming once, twice, too many times to remember and failed. Upon entry into this organic planet, he had taken Concorde as an alternative mode to accommodate his shuttle bulk. Thankfully it came with a speed boost but none of the thrill of flight (or fight) that came so naturally to his fighter brothers. Even Fireflight had woken up from his reverie to give a chase.

He would have let out a sigh if he could have as his internals indicated that engine two was only working at a fifty percent capacity. While he was busy worrying about the minute cracks snaking along the edge of his left wing, his caught a flickering shadow at the edge of his radar. Before he could send out a cry of alarm to his siblings, Starscream took him down with a well aimed blast from his null rays.

-x-

A point of light appeared on Skydive's radar, approaching at high velocity—Silverbolt he assumed, '_acting like a true 'Bot at last_'. He spared no more thoughts to his giant brother as he waited for the protoform to tumble into the stratosphere. Already, Air Raid was firing at it, playfully missing every time as though to ridicule Skydive's training regime. A sudden pain raked across their gestalt bond and they froze, he felt a piece of metal skitter across the span of his wings as Slingshot shrieked,

"It's Starscream!!"

The Aerialbots had tangled with the wayward Seeker the night before and had ended the dogfight with no definitive results. It seemed as though the F-22 had returned to rectify that. With a piercing wail Fireflight hit the water, fire in his engine out but quickly caulking up with saltwater. Slingshot, the smallest of them, spun out of the way but without any control as Starscream, half way between his transformations cut the Harrier's left wing into pieces. Knowing that they would not be nearly fast enough to evade a seeker in full flight, Skydive and Air Raid turned belly up as the Seeker jettisoned past. Their undercarriages scraped together, leaving shallow gouges and vibrations to be felt all the way into the core of their sparks.

"Beautiful." Skydive commended admiringly and Air Raid agreed, barely dodging the null rays directed at his nosecone. They didn't pursue. Aerialbots as a unit was one thing, but they were now at a disadvantage and outclassed by a breed they could only hope to mimic. Following the Seeker's flight a second longer, they reluctantly dove towards the waters to fish out their downed siblings.

-x-

Starscream hovered above the choppy waves, wings spread protectively over where the protoform had plunged into the water. Above, imperceptible to the naked eye, a helicopter flew but not one of the usual seaside variety. This helicopter was a combat, search, and rescue capable, in case the pilots inside encountered hostile force. As of yet, they had done nothing but observe the brief scuffle between the two factions and the strange alien object entering the atmosphere.

"_I think he sees us. Do we engage? Over."_

"_Negative, but keep an eye on them."_

The pilot looked back down at where the F-22 had been mere seconds before, but it was no longer there.

-x-

"I'm going to tear the fragger a new _port_ next time I see him." the mech snarled as he swung his pedes onto the relatively solid ground. Water dripped off of every available surface. If it wasn't seaweed or other innocuous aquatic plant life hanging from his limbs, it was fish or crab, or something organic yet _crunchy_ getting caught between his joints and throwing in his movement off. On the abandoned stretch of shoreline, Bonecrusher shook himself, spraying the air with a fine mist. "Disgusting," he complained, waving a still living flounder in the Decepticon Air Commander's face. "What is this thing anyways?"

"It's a flounder."

"It's dead is what it is." the mech groused, throwing it behind his shoulders. Immediately, watching seagulls attacked it with vigor only matched by Autobots on the battlefield. Bonecrusher shuddered, "Ugh."

"Oh you have no idea." The Seeker rasped wryly, eyeing one particular white bird that had taken off with its prize. The rest of the flock chased it, savagely pulling out its tail feathers as it hurriedly swallowed its ill-gotten gains.

Bonecrusher tried to dry himself off and ended up lighting himself on eerie yellow fire.

"Salt?!! Salt water?! Regular water wasn't bad enough?! Slag, I hate this planet already."

Starscream merely sighed.

-x-

Barricade, or rather his holographic avatar, began to fiddle with the police radio apparently catching nothing but static. It was getting dark now, they had made occasional pit stops in the middle of nowhere so that the teenagers could relieve their bladders somewhat but had made no attempts to feed themselves or refuel. He and Mikaela had bantered about that when the usual well of '_what are you going to do to us?_' and '_what's happening?_' had dried up. He had been impressed by the human teenager's above average knowledge of the inner workings of a car while in turn, she had been amazed to find out he was not a typical cop car.

He had Frenzy identify the girl and ended up with files of teenage delinquency—something about being an accomplice in car thefts around the area. It explained why she had been so wary of a police car.

Suddenly his communications array buzzed to life.

'_This is Starscream, coordinates: 36.4566, -122.4316.'_

The teenagers jumped at the string of raspy gibberish from the radio.

"_This is Barricade, has there been any contact from the Nemesis?"_

'_Negative, communications still down. Last transmission recorded 0.892 megacycles ago.'_

"_Got any more good news with that?"_

'_Bonecrusher is with me. His launching 0.895 megacycles ago.'_

"Around the time we lost contact with the Nemesis." Barricade muttered to himself. Louder he said,

"_You know I asked for good news."_

The other Decepticon obviously chose to ignore him.

'_Do you have the artifact?'_

"_I hacked into an account and put a bid on the item but a certain yellow 'bot decided on a more direct approach."_

'_Is the human safe?'_

"_Yeah I've got him... and his mate..."_

'_...'_

"_What? Bumblebee would have taken her if I hadn't."_

'_We had orders.'_

"_Too late for that, a military base down in Qatar, the human president in a bunker... One or two people going missin' 'round here isn't that farfetched 'Screamer."_

'_Don't call me that. Rendezvous back to coordinates:_ _33.8358, -118.3406. Starscream out.'_

Barricade sighed, turning himself around and heading north.

-x-

A blue Chevrolet rumbled to life from a bridge under the freeway.

Inside, a man dialed a number and said a few choice words before flickering out of existence.

-x-

The bright green numbers indicated that it was 8:47.

Sam and Mikaela held hands, drawing comfort from each other as their kidnapper took a turn, then another turn into a winding trail in the dark. Slowly, they began to realize the landmarks, like the art museum they had to visit one time for a school report, and the view of the lake before it was obscured by the trees. If they made a run for it here, they could probably make it to their respective houses.

Determined, Sam grabbed the only makeshift weapon between them and swung it against the man's head.

Only it never made contact. The purse went through the man's temple with no resistance as though the man had been made of nothing but colored particles of air. Sam's hand, felt a brief warmth as they passed through where the man's brain _should have_ been. In horror, he dropped the purse. It lingered briefly above the man's thighs before falling through and landing on the seat. Their kidnapper's leg shimmered and turned transparent.

Mikaela muffled her shriek with her hands.

"Sorry 'bout that." Cade said casually, "I'm running low on fuel so my hologram's not that solid anymore."

The teen threw himself backwards, pressing himself deep against the back seat.

"Oh god, shit, what the fuck are you, oh god, oh god..."

The man disappeared. Not even, blink-and-disappear, he simply vanished before their very eyes. But the car drove on, even without their frantic attempts to get in the front seat and steer it. Static spilled forth from the radio at various frequencies before settling on one.

"Alright, alright calm down."

It was... Cade's voice.

Sam's hands became unstuck from where they had been clutching the steering wheel for dear life.

"Oh my god..."

"If you're done panicking," he said crankily over the horrorstruck teens. "We've got company. You think a talking car is bad, this is worse."

Moments later, they found exactly what when two black-and-yellow pillars smashed into the patrol car's hood, stopping it effectively in its tracks. A second later, Sam and Mikaela came to bruised and battered, pushing back the air bags and staring into the hazy red lights just beyond the webbed glass.

A voice purred smugly,

"Do you two require any assistance?"

-x-

**A.N.:** Hmm I'd hoped to get to the Autobots vs. Decepticons explanation in this chapter but things rarely pan out the way I want them to. This was supposed to be longer, 'was' being operative word. So all the fun stuff got pushed to the next chapter. Hope the readers enjoyed this chapter though.

-

**[1]Time** – I try to use IDW 's version.

0.892 megacycle equals about 3.45 days

0.895 megacycle equals about 3.46 days

**[2]**Bumblebee – How do I explain this… Bayverse Bumblebee does not get many lines. Even in the comics (the movie prequel, the movie, etc.) he does not get many lines and this is the SG!AU so I ended up improvising. From what little lines he managed to utter during his Bayverse career, I ended up with a very proper tone of speech. So this is why his dialogues are so awkward.

Or it could be that I suck at dialogues, feel free to choose.

**[3]**Starscream vs. Aerialbots – first of all, in the first movie, it was awesome how the screaming one was able to take out like three raptors before they realized 'OH SHIT' and I realized that this scene would not take place in this fic unless I fudged up the attendance sheet. So yeah, Aerialbots are here to stay for my amusement and to replicate the epic dogfight Starscream partook in.

**[4]**Silverbolt – Basically he was put in command of the Aerialbots because... Optimus Prime felt sorry for him. Sort of, leadership did keep his fear of height at bay somewhat but still, I highly doubt that this would ever occur in the SG!verse morale be damned. I would think that either Skydive or Air Raid would have taken over. No doubt Silverbolt would have placed dead last in the flier ranks if not taken out or replaced completely—sorry Silverbolt

**[5]**Bonecrusher – logically speaking, if Decepticons actually learned to work together, they would have steamrolled, pressed and hung out to dry the Autobots a long, long time ago. Not to mention they seem to have an awful lot of ammo compared to the formerly law-abiding Bayverse Cybertronians. So I decided to shrink the Decepticon strike team a little, it was a tossup between Bonecrusher and Brawl. Blackout was considered at one point but come on, Decepticons _had_ been the good guys they would have just flown off with the damned thing (the Allspark) and not bothered enlisting human help.


	4. The worlds collide

**Title: **Our New Divide

**Rating: **T

**Summary:** Sam receives a solid B for his genealogy report which means no car for the 17 year old Witwicky. That's okay; he now has an F-22 perched on his lawn instead.

**A.N.:** I only had to write this chapter like what... 3 times? The first time, the mini-me inside my had ranted and raged that it was too slow, second time, not good enough and third, my computer bailed on me before I could save. Gah... I'm so sick of staring at this chapter...

**Starfire201 **– Have you figured out who the Chevrolet is yet...? xD I was originally going to reveal his name in this chapter but decided eh, he's not terribly important to the integrity of this plot (what plot?) and so, introduction shoved to the next chapter. Thanks for the review :D

**Fire From Above** – I is also... I mean Starscream is such a show off even in his shy, pacifist (relatively), non-egoistic self. I love it x3

**Levannar** – Blackout will show up, eventually... when it becomes impossible to carry the Allspark to safety I bet. Because like I said before, without a single flyer in their ranks, the five Autobots who were originally sent to Earth (even if they're evil) would be bulldozed by the Decepticons.

Thank you everyone for your kind reviews. They are frequently what guilts me into writing and not procrastinating like... forever. That and a friend I made a bet with her saying that I wouldn't be able to finish a fic within 6 months.

She's probably right

-x-

Transformers did not dream, at least not in the way humans did. Their dreams—and sometimes nightmares—were more like a collage of memories and desires. They could choose to reflect upon past events and fantasize about the future. Rarely were the images wild and fanciful—_so out of control_—as depicted in the minds of human beings. And yet, Barricade thought, as Bumblebee's pedes smashed through his hood and the engine beneath—he was surely dreaming.

"Surprised _officer_?" The Autobot asked in a voice laced with poison and rust. Barricade's answer was a shudder, the trembling of his metallic frame as the Camaro bent to his knees with a sneer. He pressed his face close to the white-edged webs on the glass; his red optics piercing through the dark of the police car's interior and at the two teenage fleshlings huddled behind the ballooned air bags. Gurgling with delight, his servo brushed almost affectionately against the broken side-view mirror. "Did you really think that you would get away?"

-x-

The air bags began to deflate.

Ears still ringing, Sam stared into the hazy red glow on the other side of the shattered glass. It seemed highly improbable that a giant robot could articulate in English—television had lied to him, shouldn't it at least speak Japanese or something else a little more exotic?—but it enunciated its words clearly, leaving do doubts that it was referring to the police car—_Cade_.

Beside him, Mikaela began to whisper a continuous stream of '_oh god_'s beneath her breath. Blood dripped down her nose though it didn't seem broken. Certainly, it didn't seem to bother the girl any or at least she had not noticed it yet. She was still pretty, even with her hair a messy tangle around her face and her pale eyes blown wide in shock. But the shallow confidence had melted off of her between the hours in the morning at the mall and being in the car at the mercy of this strange mechanical being. It left her oddly vulnerable, more reachable, more...—he couldn't think of a better word—_human_. Quietly, he held her hand and squeezed hard, it seemed terribly important at that moment.

With a sickening thud, the Camaro's fist smashed into the front window. The two human teenagers jerked back but the reinforced glass held, bending inwards and warping like a layer of skin. The police car rocked back and forth on its four tires, the spectrum of lights near the steering wheel flickering weakly. The sheets of metal began to screech in protest as the giant mechanical being shifted on his pedes, ruining the black-and-white hood even further. There was blue electricity lancing all across where the parts of the engine had been forcefully exposed. The sound of a clogged gutter rose from the undercarriage before dying. The car began to ping insistently as though a door had been left open.

Dimly, as though in a dream, Sam saw Mikaela reaching for the police radio and gasp—"_...Cade?_"

"_S_hit..."

The Camaro's heavy knuckles retracted from view. He heard an inquiring buzz and a swivel of _something_ as the Autobot's black fingers traced the fogged windshield. The engines whined mutely in protest, the attempts at ignition failing as the yellow mech formed another fist. Sam dug his nails into the seams of the jeans, teeth gritted in trepidation as the last remnants of his innate flight response gave away to the illogical fight. Mikaela's hand grew limp and she calmly let the mouth piece fall into her lap. She took in a deep breath and reluctantly, eyes still set on their alien killer, she squeezed Sam back.

"Get down!"

Barricade's voice boomed from all around them just as Bumblebee's fist connected. Sam and Mikaela ducked as the protective cover of the glass collapsed over their heads. Barricade lurched backwards, knocking the Camaro off balance. Before the other mech could regain his footing, the gears reversed with a snap and the cruiser swerved forward, colliding with the Autobot's knees. Surprised, Bumblebee fell forwards, his chassis slamming down on where the windshield used to be. The two teenagers began to scream, the only thing between them and the violent Camaro a broken sheet of glass that was doing an admirable job of remaining whole despite the rampant abuse. Barricade's engines revved wildly, his wheels spinning fast in the dirt as he took on most of the Autobot's dead weight and crashed against the line of trees. Bumblebee screeched as his leg struts were pinned and subsequently crushed against a tree trunk. All four doors popped open then as they began to morph; the overlaying metal recalibrating themselves into something that vaguely resembled limbs.

"Run!!"

And before the Decepticon could utter another word, Sam and Mikaela were running, the girl in the lead and looking back at what had once been the car turned into another mechanical being. Sam tripped over his own feet, landing hard on his hands as he scrambled to get past the line of fire. Bumblebee continued to scream as the various components of Barricade's body shifted and ground his damaged limbs into the tree. Barricade roared similarly in return, his chassis slashed horizontally into two separate pieces, dripping energon and mortally wounded but without the option of escape.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" Barricade wheezed, punching the Autobot across his face.

The yellow mech's optics widened before contracting into little pinpricks of light. The Decepticon felt the warm end of a barrel graze along his side.

"Well, since you were so kind enough to volunteer..."

Barricade coughed up blue energon as a plasma blast went skittering past one of his vents and out the other side. His optics revolved slowly as they looked down his black-and-white exoskeleton and at the gaping hole near the bottom of his chassis. He touched the dampness with the clawed tips of his fingers in half-amazement. His grip on the Autobot's body slackened and despite the damaged legs, Bumblebee was able to push past him to follow the human teenagers.

It was dark, no reliable source of light to be had. Without extrasensory to guide them otherwise, Sam and Mikaela stayed on the rugged path. Bumblebee observed them for a few moments in which he calculated their speed and distance. He leisurely pulled his trigger and watched the ground blow up beneath their feet. The two teens were flung to the ground but recovered in an instant, bruised and battered but no worse for the wear—it wouldn't do to kill ladiesman217 before his time after all. The Autobot limped his way up the uneven path. The two teenagers backed away into the burnt patch of earth, no longer as enthusiastic to flee. Instead, they held their hands outstretched as though to ward him off somehow.

Bumblebee chuckled unsettlingly at the motion and pointed to the human girl.

"I have no need for you."

Barricade tackled the Autobot from behind, his chassis lathered in glowing blue-what film as they went down in a tangle of limbs. Green leaves flew in all directions as they tumbled back into the grove of trees. They grappled, locked in a stalemate, unable to get an advantage over each other. Bumblebee had not climb the Autobot ranks without knowing how to fight dirty and Barricade, a physicist by profession, had not enlisted to be the part of the war effort without picking up several tricks of his own. The Camaro pulled at the still-malleable edges of the other mech's vents as Barricade clipped a damage leg with his pede. Bumblebee reeled back immediately in pain and the Chief Science Officer was able to grab him by his wind pipe. Summoning the strength he was no longer able to feel, he threw the other mech several meters away before proceeding to slump to his knees.

"_Cade!!_"

"Mikaela!"

He purged his tanks, the clot of milky-blue energon spilling from between his closed mandibles. The girl's hands were fluttering at the silver lettering on his servos, obviously at a loss as to what to do. Had he been in his alternate mode, she might have done something—she could have done something. Barricade tried to stand up; his optics awfully bright as his legs succumbed to gravity and folded beneath his mangled body. He merely succeeded in shaking the ground and putting a measure of distance between himself and the girl.

"Run damn you," He breathed, optics whirling uncertainly. He discharged more of the half solidified gunk, his hydraulics spitting fitfully as they slackened. "I said go!!"

But her legs had failed her and Sam refused to leave without her.

"_Oh_ shit..."

With a cry, Bumblebee raised his blaster at the three. But before the yellow mech could shoot them, the sky turned true black, blotting out the thousand stars. A ghostly shadow ambushed him from above and the Autobot fell hard against the ground. With the momentum of their descent, the Seeker easily immobilized the Camaro and wrenched his jaw and several lines from his neck with a twist of his bird-like toes. Optics brimming violet, he fired several shots into the mech's backstrut with his null rays. Bumblebee fell silent, paralyzed but online as he seethed in fury.

This did not, in any way, reassure the teenagers as they began to scream even louder.

-x-

A blue Chevrolet watched the scene unfold beneath a shade of leaves. He would have laughed if he had a working mouth or if he had wanted to get caught. _Good riddance_—he thought, scoffing as the yellow mech's movements ceased. He had to admit—Starscream had _style_. Why else would the Seeker be coveted above all others? Etching the image of Bumblebee's—_Goldbug's_—face in the dirt, courtesy of one Seeker pede, permanently in his mind, he transformed. He cocked his head, pondering if he should ask Jazz for backup. After a moment though he shrugged and turned around, coming face to face with a familiar armored vehicle.

It lifted its fork and grunted irritably—"I hate my life."

-x-

"_...Starscream?"_

The two teenagers hid behind Barricade as the Seeker drew near. But the Decepticon Air Commander had no interest in the human younglings at the moment. His optics could only see the raw trails of energon and their reluctant donor. He stepped off the downed Autobot and knelt by the physicist's side. The black-and-white mech murmured his greetings—_how uncharacteristic of him_—as Starscream gingerly rested him on his side. Barricade's head rolled with a soft groan, putting in mind an image of a beached whale. His optics became fixed on the twinning images of Sam and Mikaela as they fervently whispered reassurances and shouted unheard questions to the taller Decepticon. Starscream adjusted his null rays and shot in the waist area. He barely felt it but the torn lines were no longer bleeding as profusely.

There was a rustling from behind them and Starscream swiftly turned around as a battered mech was tossed out of the woods and at his pedes. Skittish, he flinched and lifted one pede before regarding the newcomer more closely.

"Bonecrusher?"

"No," Bonecrusher said irritably, emerging from behind the trees. He pressed a thumb against his chassis, "I'm Bonecrusher and this..." he kicked the blue mech's helm, "...is an Autobot. I hate it when people confuse me for someone else."

The teenagers could only gape up at them.

"Fraaaaag." Barricade sputtered weakly, "They sent Bonecrusher? What's he going to do? Complain until I stop bleeding because my lines shriveled up?"

"That's one way to close your lines." Starscream muttered.

"Slag you both, stop it, I feel fine."

"Only because I had to paralyze over half of your body." Starscream snapped, the last note bordering on hysteric as his voice reverted into a series of fractured whistles. Bonecrusher winced, recalling that the former scientist had always had problems with his vocals—one that was attended to by those who were better practiced in delicate operations. For now, he turned his concentration towards Barricade whose chassis seemed to have split open like the hard shell of the crustacean he had picked out from between the prongs of his fork earlier.

"Heeey, what are you doing?"

"Turn off your vocal processor for one fraggin' astrocycle. What's the damage?"

"...Everything."

Certainly, Barricade looked as though he was ready to be sent to the scrapheap. He was painted in gallons of energon, his chassis was cut deep—another mechanometer and it would have probably done him in—the rewired arm from the night before was dislocated again. On the bright side, he looked like he would have to be scuffed grey for a long time. If there was one quality that Bonecrusher would never miss from the black-and-white mech was how often he preened, showing off his clean lines as opposed to the tactician's bulky, hunched one.

"He missed your spark chamber," Starscream remarked, "you were lucky."

"Yeah and guess who's the lucky 'con who gets to put in back together again 'cause it sure ain't you." Bonecrusher groused as he disconnected the damaged vent from the main body. "Damned Autobots can't even slag a mech right." He began to infuse some of his energon into the other mech. Barricade sighed in relief as the barrage of warnings on his HUD began to taper off.

"Love you too 'Crush."

Sam stared at the three assembled Decepticons and croaked,

"Who are you?"

The three looked at one another for a moment with Barricade shrugging as much as his state and position would allow in a deceptive—_who me?_—way.

Ever the peacemaker, Starscream cleared his vocals delicately before bending gracefully to his knees, taking care not to scare the humans any further.

"Forgive us for our belated introduction. We are Decepticons, emissaries of Cybertron."

"We come in peace" Barricade snarked, giving them a mocking one-fingered salute.

"You've already met Barricade, our chief science officer..."

"...And part time scrap heap." Bonecrusher snorted,

"Bonecrusher, the tactician and also our current medic..."

"An ugly thug who somehow bullied his way into a respectable position." Barricade retorted,

"I'm show you ugly when I weld your helm to your aft."

Ignoring the other two with a disturbing amount of patience the Seeker concluded,

"And I am Starscream, the leader of this little expedition."

"I hate it when you marginalize us like that."

"Yeah, don't be so modest 'Screamer."

"Wait, wait, wait." Sam jabbed a finger in Barricade's direction. "H...how do you guys talk like that?"

"What? Speak English? Do you really think that this conversation would be taking place if we spoke Dutch or Pilipino? We learned most of Earth's languages through the World Wide Web. Think it took me 3 of your seconds to look it all up."

"...Why are you here?"

Barricade was starting to like the girl—she asked more relevant questions.

"We are here looking for the Allspark."

"Otherwise known as the cube..."

"Among other things..."

"We must find it before Opti..."

Starscream coughed, not to gently, earning his teammates' accusatory glares as golden flares briefly alighted his vocals. He waved one clawed talon, politely turning around so no one would bear witness to his repeated attempts at hacking up his vocal processors entirely. Bonecrusher shook his head peevishly, a thin beam of light pointed at the taller Decepticon's neck. While the mostly dusty-colored mech scanned his superior, Barricade feebly tapped his wrist until his holographic projector came online, bathing them all in the eerie glow of far flung galaxies.

"Optimus Prime, which vaguely translates to '_giant robotic cult leader from outer space_' in your language. In our language, he used to be the big boss alongside our Lord High Protector Megatron until he went a little crazy from the power trip. He became dissatisfied with the position he held and decided that the only way he could conquer the universe was to merge himself with the cube. The Decepticon forces are originally Cybertron's armies, decimated through the time of peace and the eons of abuse and sabotage by Prime. By the time we realized what was going on, we were sorely outstretched and outnumbered. In a desperate bid to preserve the Allspark, we launched it into outer space where it became lost because _some of us_ forgot to plot its course."

Starscream stiffened as Bonecrusher smacked Barricade upside down on his head.

"Some of us were too busy _dying_."

The wounded mech had the grace to look chagrined.

"Right... sorry... anyways evidence indicates that Prime crash-landed his ship on Mars sometime ago. He saw the Allspark enter Earth's atmosphere and he followed where he became buried in mountains of ice until Captain Archibald Witwicky had the fortune of discovering him in deep freeze."

"Huh," Sam turned to Mikaela with a bemused look on his face. "My grandfather. So what does that have to do with me?"

"When your grandfather discovered him, he accidentally activated the Prime's navigation system. The coordinates were imprinted on his glasses."

Barricade thought it best to keep the details to a bare minimum. No sense in getting the younglings involved in this war after all, even if they were inevitably a part of it now.

"How'd you know about the glasses?"

"It was one of the items retrieved during Optimus Prime's excavation. Since it was then deemed unimportant to the government, they gave it back to your family who passed it on until it came to rest in your hands."

Sam scratched his head awkwardly.

"We must know," Starscream declared solemnly with a slightly breathless rasp, "where are the glasses now?"

"They're at my house, in my backpack."

The three looked to one another again. The boy had a slight inkling that they were communicating silently over the radio—or whatever giant alien robots used to exchange information in real life—without having a bunch of teenagers listening in on it. God, that was so weird—this was _real_—Starscream's dark blue optics passed over them once or twice and he noticed how differently the Seeker was built in comparison to the others that they had met so far. Granted, it could have been because the tall, Decepticon officer seemed to be the only one with flight capabilities but still, it was all very strange. Sam nudged Mikaela with an elbow and wiggled his eyebrows up and down. Mikaela made a disbelieving face.

"Very well," Starscream ceded, his turbines rumbling unhappily.

Barricade and Bonecrusher looked awfully smug for two mechanical beings that shouldn't have been able to display that many range of emotions. Weren't TV shows and movies always going on and on about how artificial intelligence was persecuted because they weren't emphatic?

With well-oiled whirl of gears, Starscream pivoted on one pede and settled down in his alternative form. His golden canopy slid open invitingly.

"You want us to ride you?!"

Sam gaped at the jet for a moment, his brain taking far too long to digest the facts. A grin tugged sharply at his mouth, his heartbeat drumming in his ears. And inexorably, he began to laugh in delight.

"If you want to walk go ahead, but we'd rather get this over quick." Bonecrusher replied, vaguely amused. He held his servo out, waiting for the teenagers to climb on so he could drop them in the Air Commander's cockpit.

Sam eagerly stepped forward until Mikaela caught him by the elbow, pinching him rather viciously.

"Wait, you can't seriously...!"

"We were in Barricade." He pointed out.

"'Cade is a car, he's a..." She trembled, trying to compose herself. She couldn't explain it—not even to herself—but Starscream terrified her. The jet's sleek outline looked sharp enough to cut, not just enemies like the Satan's Camaro but through the air, space, and their very existence. The thought was enough to chill her and make her back away; no matter how tempting the offer was, no matter—_how many kids can claim that they've ridden an F-22 anyways?_

Sam grabbed her hand, just as he did inside Barricade waiting for Bumblebee to kill them all. In the dark, the whites of his teeth looked painfully bright, he was still smiling—she realized—he wanted this and he wasn't thinking about the consequences because there was no way that any sane person could take up a talking robot on his offer to give them a ride. But he squeezed her hand again and somehow she felt her fears subside. She let herself be tugged forward as exhilaration invaded her senses.

"Fifty years from now when you look back at this moment, don't you want to say you had the guts to get in?"

-x-

**A.N.:** Okay, so a re-upload because this chapter was bothering me five hours after I've initially put it up. And look! I've added more of my snarky notes that kinda reminds me why I did what. Sometimes, rest of the time I just stare at it and go 'huh?' So as always, feel free to ask any questions and please forgive the rampant misuse of English grammar.

-

**[1]****Megatron - **Megatron was a space travel capable Transformer. What went wrong? He survives being spit out of one end of a worm hole, finding the Milky Way and the solar system and what? A bit of water and relatively balmy (compared to the rest of this galaxy) arctic temperatures put him in stasis for ten thousand years? Even if he was feeling hot and bothered after falling through the atmosphere, you'd think Cybertronian jet (plus the fact that he's the High Lord Protector) of his status would wake up after a power nap. But then again, if he had and razed human civilization to the ground, Bayverse wouldn't have been born...

**[2]****Glasses - **I've always found Optimus Prime's curt 'e-Bay' answer to be dissatisfying. How can you tell if the transparent smudges on the glasses are actually Cybertronian symbols? The pictures don't have that great of a resolution. So yeah, let's go with the Decepticon explanation in which the Bayverse Frenzy hacked into Air Force One to get the data from Sector 7 (? Correct me if I'm wrong) or at the very least they hacked into _something_ to find the glasses.

**[3]****Starscream - **Keep in mind that Starscream may_ be_ a pacifist, he may have been a scientist who wanted to work towards redemption (after the trauma of seeing Crystal City blown to bits because of him) but in this story he's a solider. He will do what's necessary, even if it's not always the pleasant/good/right choice. He is the Air Commander after all and there are again many lives dependent on him.

Just throwing that out there to explain the whole stepping on 'Bee thing :3


	5. Things get complicated

**Title: **Our New Divide

**Rating: **T

**Summary:** Sam receives a solid B for his genealogy report which means no car for the 17 year old Witwicky. That's okay; he now has an F-22 perched on his lawn instead.

**A.N.:** I'm glad everyone liked the Decepticon gathering (well... all three of them anyways) and hopefully the next few parts will be received with the same enthusiasm x3

By the way, what did you guys think of Barricade's abridged version of Cybertron history? I first had it in mind to let Starscream narrate the entire spiel then realized that... between the Bay!verse and the SG!verse and the regular ol' G1!verse, I could not write him a speech with a straight face. Something had to give (his vocal processor) and so I had Barricade outline my thoughts about the Bay!verse timeline.

My two cents, storytelling is a _very_ bad idea unless you're Optimus Prime xD

As always, thanks everyone for reviews-!

**reka1207 **– When I made the energon blueish I was thinking of the scene in the 2k7 film where Captain Lennox shot Blackout in the crotch. There was something blue-edged white coming from him and I'm guessing it wasn't gas -winces- so that's where I got my energon from. Then I saw the scene in RotF where Optimus Prime fights the Decepticons and he coughs up purplish-reddish... thing. So maybe the two factions consume different types of energon?

**Jackalyn** – in the SG!verse, Optimus Prime wanted the genius-mech Starscream to join is faction. Starscream refused and well... the rest is history. But basically, yeah, Optimus Prime still wants 'Screamer.

**Starfire201 – **nope, none of them, but would it make you feel better knowing that it could have been Smokescreen? xD

-x-

"_They're at my house, in my backpack."_

Barricade wasn't terrifically surprised by the revelation but from the looks he and the others exchange and one processor-grinding data burst later it became absolutely clear that the police cruiser should have bothered to inform his superiors about the tiny fact that human beings did not, in fact, find it necessary to guard their long-lost holy relic with their puny little lives—sometime in between losing the Autobots on his tailpipe and becoming a portable trampoline for Bumblebee. Apparently in this reality, being the Chief Science Officer _AND_ the pilot for the _Nemesis_ rated lower than being a tactician.

And so, while the said tactician began to wean him off the energon, Barricade wheezed and pointed out through their private comm. line that had the boy been carrying the glasses and the black-and-white mech failed to fend off Bumblebee for the amount of time that he had, the Camaro would surely be on his way to his Autobot compatriots by now. Furthermore, Starscream and Bonecrusher would have arrived to two very bloody scorch marks on the ground surrounded by pieces of scrap metal.

Bonecrusher commented dryly that the last bit wouldn't have bothered him too terribly; there would be one less thing to fix after all. But nevertheless he expertly soldered the open lines shut, not bothering the reconnect the torn circuitry and instead focusing on keeping Barricade online. Sensors indicated that the Decepticon officer would operate at fifty-one-percent maximum, _if that_, but it would be enough to stabilize him and transport him to some place _safe_. The constructicon had spent less than a solar cycle on Earth and already found something terribly amiss with its planetary defense systems. He began to eye the two supine Autobots like they were spare tanks of energon.

Starscream shook his head as he laid a silver-tipped claw against the physicist's open chassis. The sickle-like curve refracted light and bathed their faces in a fluorescent glow thrown off by the spark chamber. The dilemma now laid in the fact that their wayward assignment was taking far too long than it had first been anticipated. Surely by now, the mysterious Sector Seven had roused themselves to home in on the residual radiation output from five Transformers. Though they were supposed to keep collateral damage to minimum, the humans were making the task extremely difficult.

'You'll have to go 'Screamer.' Barricade said at last, watching the Seeker idly scraping the drying crystals of energon off the edge of his twisted armor. 'Bonecrusher's too ugly, he'd be chased out before he could even show his face and...'

'Frag off Barricade.'

'It's Star_scream_. And I hardly think that the younglings will want to get in an alien vehicle...'

The Seeker rolled his dark blue optics towards the human teenagers, slightly unsettled at their close scrutiny.

'Afraid that they'll want to jump your exoskeleton 'Screamer?' Barricade asked with a leer, 'But which is more obvious? A military jet or an armored snowplow?'

'You do realize that I'm still here? Holding bits of you together?'

The small mech ignored the tactician,

'But in all honesty _'Screamer_, you're the only one here capable of getting in and out of there undetected. I'd offer myself but as you can see I look like I've gotten overcharged on Swindle's stash of unprocessed energon again.'

'Right,' Bonecrusher grumbled, 'Primus forbid we forego excitement for some peace and quiet.'

'Peace and quiet is overrated. And don't worry about us; we... well _I_'ve got a knight in... rusted... armor to protect me from the big, bad, and conveniently half-dead Autobots.'

'It is the _knight_ I fear at this rate.' Starscream sighed,

'It'll be easier for you to just fly off.' he reasoned, 'Can't prove anything unless they film it and post it on Youtube first anyways. You'll have to get over your phobia sometime…'

'I do not have a phobia.' The Seeker replied absentmindedly, becoming more concerned with the physicist's speech pattern. He threw their medic a half-questioning look and received a noncommittal shrug in return. At best Bonecrusher specialized in cosmetic damages and structural integrity, he wasn't about to go poking into Barricade's processors—no matter how tempting it was.

'...There are some neat places to visit on this dirtball while we're stuck here trying to hail the Nemesis. There's this river in Egypt, it's called _the Nile_. It's big enough for you to bathe in if you don't mind some voyeur reptilians.'

'He has a point... though I'd hate to admit it.' Bonecrusher agreed dubiously. 'You can fly, which means that you'll probably end up back here with the coordinates before I can weld the idiot's jaws shut. Knowing our luck though, you'll probably bring a legion of Autobots down upon us as well.'

'Probably.' Starscream admitted, a subtle twist of his mandibles belying his amusement. "Very well—_I will play caretaker... for now._" He backed up and pivoted on his help, pinning them with a knowing look as his optics swept over the two teenagers and the Autobots at their feet. 'I expect you both to rendezvous back at our original meeting place.' He transformed, his head withdrawn between his shoulders as he reconfigured into an earthling jet. 'Keep your communications on at all times.'

'Fine'

'Will do'

-x-

Jolt came to against the waning roar of Starscream's thrusters as the latter shot off into the night's sky. The blue Chevrolet groaned, the creaking sound muffled by Bumblebee's shoulder. He lifted his head experimentally, his internals informing him in vivid orange that he had retained mostly superficial damage to his main frame and limbs. However, there was a large dent across the right half of his helm that had not been there before and his chevron had been broken off. He could no longer see through his right optic, the naked stalk orbiting uselessly in its socket. A toneless data burst caught his attention and he turned his head.

'...Goldbug?'

'...You are alone.'

This was not a question but a statement. A testament to how foolish he had been when he entered the forest without backup. Abandoning an already doomed mech was acceptable; bungling his own escape however was not. Jolt's glossa went dry at the furious look he received. As though he could sense the blue Autobot's thoughts, Bumblebee followed up with a short curse—'_Slag_'

'There's only two... one.' Jolt argued stubbornly, following the hunched shape of the Decepticon medic with his working optic. 'We can take him.'

'You fool,' Bumblebee hissed, the torn ligaments around his neck spraying a fresh coat of mech-fluid across his lower jaw. 'You are an apprentice medic, what would you know of war outside grayed-_shells _compliant at your fingertips? These are not the bound foot soldiers Ratchet's allowed you to take a potshot at in the past, these are Decepticon elite.'

'They are soft-hearted 'Cons,' the blue Chevrolet dismissed, 'what can they possibly do?'

'You're a medic, what do you think?'

Somehow, that statement instilled more fear within him than anything else Bumblebee could have said.

Heavy footsteps soon heralded Bonecrusher's arrival. Jolt began to struggle as blunt fingers wrapped around his neck and began to lift him up. Combat programming took over and the Chevrolet's arms warped into steel hooks, static twining freely from one end to another. A solid pressure at the base of his helm made him gasp and grow limp. His pedes dangled uselessly in midair.

"Do your worst 'Con, I'm not afraid of _you_."

Bonecrusher considered him for a moment, aqua optics narrowing as he identified the base model and frame of the blue Autobot.

"You know," he said at last, his voice dripping with contempt. "I really hate that line. You say it as though we could ever beat what you've done to us." He slipped his elongated second and third finger beneath the younger mech's arm, prying the armor from the insulation around the bare frame of his servo and the thickly congealed protomass. "And it's always the guys like you," he twisted his wrist, eliciting a surprised wail. "...That glitch first." He coaxed the energon lines out, experimentally pinching them to test their resilience. "Pits." He continued, almost to himself. "The least you could do is act like you mean it."

Jolt whimpered when he felt the plugs connect. On a Transformer's body, the core processor was most heavily protected. It was normally placed beneath a mech's chassis, hidden beneath layers of armor and insulation alongside the spark chamber. It also possessed the densest network of energon lines, divided into a number of layers spanning their upper torso. His arms, particularly the area closest to his shoulders, fed off of such areas and were more readily accessible, making them an easy target for a mech like Bonecrusher. The dusty colored Decepticon hummed as unwittingly, Jolt's mechanical body began to assist him in draining his system of all excess energon.

The Autobot let out a series of distress calls. The grip around his neck tightened until it cut off the flow of energon to his logic processor. He became light-headed, his vision blurring until they disconnected with an unexpected abruptness. Jolt landed on top of Bumblebee with a clang, the yellow Autobot beneath spewing out colorful words. He ducked when a wave of hot air washed over them. There was a whirl of moving parts as an F-16 Fighting Falcon landed on the dirt several meters away.

"Skydive," Barricade identified weakly as Bonecrusher aimed an electron gun at the flyer. Had it been anywhere else, he would have tackled the more delicately built jet-former as soon as he touched the ground. But with an injured mech to protect and potential prisoners before him, he stood his ground, changing his target.

Skydive cocked his head,

"You might not want to do that."

A second Aerialbot arrived on the scene, Air Raid, who immediately crouched beside the slate-grey jet as a difference to his rank before straightening.

"And why is that?" Bonecrusher snorted,

"It would require time that you no longer have; Sector Seven is on your Air Commander's vapor trails even as we speak."

"That's..." Barricade hissed, trying to get up. "Awfully generous of you... why?"

The bright crimson lights of Skydive's optics were clear and steady as he replied,

"Let's just say Ratchet is not very pleasant when he's wondering about the whereabouts of a certain misplaced _youngling_."

Jolt shivered at the words. He peeled himself off of the yellow Camaro and joined the two Aerialbots, cringing visibly when Air Raid threw a nasty look at him. The Chevrolet made a point to make himself appear as small as possible, backing away a respectful distance until the red-and-white raptor lifted his glare in satisfaction.

"And him?" Bonecrusher waved a heavy hand at the still paralyzed Bumblebee who began to scream in his comm. frequency for all to hear. The yellow Autobot reached out with a shaking servo, a black-tipped finger crooked in accusation before it was shot off. Air Raid stood protectively in front of his gestalt leader, his photon rifle smoldering at its tip. He sneered as Skydive turned a lazy optic towards the downed mech in a way Bonecrusher could not help but find familiar. The Aerialbot leader flashed him a brief smirk that faded within a nanocycle like etchings upon wet sand.

"What of him?" He said blandly, "do as you wish." And before Bonecrusher could spit out a reply, he had blasted off into the sky with his second close to his tail, Jolt hanging upside down by his pede. Bonecrusher's processor didn't know what to make of all this but he automatically turned to the abandoned Autobot officer, his fingers hooking beneath the yellow collar.

"I'm just going to ask this once nicely, transform and I will let you keep your worthless spark."

-x-

"Dude no!" Sam shouted just as he landed on the grass in front of his house. He could see that Starscream had missed the fountain but just barely—probably more out of his own personal safety than any regard for expensive garden ornaments. "I can't have an F-22 on my lawn, my parents would kill me!"

"Humans practice infanticide?" Starscream stood up, abet awkwardly as he set Mikaela down on the ground. "Fascinating, why was I not informed of this? Do you need assistance? I could carry you to a safer location if you required it."

The response was almost comical except that his fate would be much worse than a hypothetical death. Sam wasn't quite sure if the Seeker was joking or not since he seemed to have grasped the fundamentals of English language but it was unlikely that a crash course on human interactions 101 had been included in the package. As grateful as he was for the ride, the thousand blades of crushed grass—and the possibility of curfew till he was forty—compelled him.

"Starscream, just... get off of my lawn."

"Where would I go?"

It was a fair question. Starscream wasn't exactly someone he wanted to show off to the entire neighborhood—no matter how awesome that would be—even if their neighbor across the road, Robert Turner, was a total creep. Mikaela stared at him with eyebrows raised when no answer was forthcoming,

"You have wings don't you? Can't you just...?"

"That would require energy that I cannot readily access. My internal distillery has been compromised upon entry and I am currently unable to process naturally available fuels to maximum efficiency. Attempts to convert energy now would only serve to further deteriorate my systems."

"I thought you guys knew how to speak English!"

Distantly they heard a female voice calling—_"Sam? Is that you? What are you doing out there?"_

"Can't you just raid a gas station?" Mikaela asked, brushing her hair back nervously and looking around to see that there were no curious faces at the windows.

Starscream grimaced,

"I require a substantially higher quality fuel than diesel."

"Bio-fuel then," Sam said decisively, "can't you transform into something... normal?"

"I hope you're not suggesting that I become a... ground-pounder."

"Huh?"

The Decepticon flyer shot the boy a droll look,

"I like my wings." He summarized, feeling a bit of pity for the race of permanently ground-bound organics.

"Okay, no cars umm... oh! You're a giant robot! Can't you turn invisible or something?"

Starscream stood confused wondering how the boy had arrived at such a conclusion. Nevertheless, he answered as best he could,

"I could direct my force field to refract light giving an illusion of being invisible to your optics but that does not save the... lawn as you called it."

"Fine, whatever you said, just as long as my parents don't find a friggin jet on their lawn in the morning; everything is gravy, now off, turn invisible."

"I would, however, like to inform you that your blood pressure is rising to unprecedented levels and it would be wise if you..."

"Go!"

Grumbling as his wings swept back to settle over his shoulders, he followed Mikaela around the house. Knowing how the boy felt about the botanical pursuits of his parents, he was careful to avoid stepping on anything green, earning a weird look from the girl. The Witwicky house was located at the end of the street, its property extending to a line of trees. He jumped on the roof to get a better look, shaking the house.

There were power lines clustered closely around the area and a small power generator 1.5 kilometers away. It was scrambling all signals around the area including his own—his teammates' began to hail him discreetly on various frequencies, baffled by the string of garbled static that was put out. When he felt the vibrations beneath his pedes and heard something being forcefully opened then closed, he gently lifted Mikaela from the ground to the window so that she could assist the teen in locating the glasses. He had seen the same kind of mess in Thundercracker's private quarters before and knew instantly that their search was not over.

Sam poked his head out the window, twisting his head until he could see the giant raptor on the roof.

"Shit, you're on the roof now? What are you doing on the roof? How's that keeping a low profile? That's not being invisible! Don't you weigh like a hundred tons? Get down from there! You're going to bring the house down!"

"Sam," Mikaela hissed, not so subtly elbowing him in the side, "don't be so rude!"

"What?" Sam hopped sideways, hand rubbing furiously at his ribs. He bashed his head against the window sill and waved his other hand wildly in the Decepticon's general direction. "She's a giant robot right? For all we know, a hundred tons could be super-slim on Cybertron or something."

"I'm afraid... I don't follow." Starscream said finding that Sam's blood pressure was again rising beyond internationally acceptable rates for human beings. He leapt down from his perch, raising his brow plates at the strange organic fleshling.

"Aren't you umm..."

"Female?"

"Female... a femme?" Starscream offered skeptically, visualizing the most physically compatible type of Transformer. "Why would I be a femme? I don't look like a femme."

"Aren't you a girl?"

"Oh." Crickets chirped merrily in the grass and Starscream shifted on his pedes, glad that the power lines were distorting his long-range audio output. He turned his face away slightly embarrassed, "We Cybertronians do not have what you humans perceive as... genders. Biologically speaking, any one of us could conceive and carry a sparkling to full term."

The teenagers mentally substituted the word 'sparkling' with 'baby'.

Sam looked horrified,

"Even..." he lowered his voice, "_Bonecrusher_?"

"Even Bonecrusher." Starscream confirmed and he tried hard not to imagine the Decepticon tactician as a carrier.

Another awkward silence then,

"Crap, I think I left my backpack is downstairs, be right back okay?"

The abused door was flung open as Sam ran and slid downstairs.

"Are you sure you want to take him as your mate? He seems," The jet pondered the word, "_flighty_"

Mikaela blushed,

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

Starscream's expression became shuttered,

"Let's just say that I haven't quite forgiven Barricade for locking me in a storage closet during an emergency evacuation."

"Okay..."

"Slag," the Seeker swore, turning around. The tip of his left wing brushed against the house, ripping off the paint and wooden paneling. "Mikaela, get Sam."

"What? I can't just go downstairs!"

Then she heard the sirens.

A childhood filled with the memories of car-theft instilled within her that a siren was a very bad thing. It didn't matter if it was an ambulance or some toddler riding his tricycle, the familiar blaring filled her with the need to run and hide. She was going to get arrested—like her father whose parole hearing was coming up.

She would get arrested; Sam would get arrested, for not reporting giant robots from outer space—but how would they arrest Starscream she wondered? And before the helpless laughter could bubble up her throat, a hand closed around her like a steel trap and she was extracted from the mess that was a teenaged boy's room.

"Come"

And with a surprised yelp, Mikaela found herself wobbling across the lawn. "Will this suffice?"

"Yeah, yeah," she breathed, she looked up at the F-22 who was staring back at her with genuine concern. "Yeah... just... warn a girl next time."

Starscream nodded briefly.

"Go"

Mikaela bobbed her head uncertainly and sprinted for the front door.

Starscream muttered a short expletive as he toppled a power line. He fired his thrusters, feeling the current course through him in a complete circuit before shorting out. One by one, the houses on the block went dark. He found queries from both Bonecrusher and Barricade waiting for him. Ignoring them, he squatted down against a small hill beyond the boundaries of power poles and waited.

The first of the military vehicles entered the street; various fleshlings poked their heads out their doors only to be ushered back inside by men in black. Armored vans surrounded the Witwicky home, men pouring out from the doors as they marched up the ruined lawn. There were also people in white—scientists, he guessed—taking samples of everything around them from the slightly irradiated plants to the innocuous gravel on the concrete.

He saw Sam's creators being marched out, their dog—a tiny thing—restrained. The femme—_female_—was yelling random threats about them manhandling the dog. He stared at her curiously, finding her too finely built to carry a healthy sparkling full term. Then the teenagers barreled out the back, turning their heads every which way looking for him.

"Starscream!"

"We have the glasses!"

"Hurry," he hissed, guiding them towards the cover of the forest.

"My parents... they're!"

"They will not be harmed," he said firmly, as he hacked at the branches with his claws. "It is you two that they're after. Or rather, the irradiated particles that would commonly be found on a Transformer."

Sam blanched,

"Radiated? We're going to get cancer?"

"You will be fine. These particles are harmless; they are more like barest signatures of gamma rays we soak up throughout our lives. But they do not occur naturally on this planet which makes them ideal markers for identification."

"Oh great, shit, shit, shit!"

A helicopter flew past them, separating the branches and revealing Starscream's unnatural metallic body against the backdrop of organic leaves. Men poured in like ants, all wearing bulletproof breasts and seeking to disguise themselves through mediocre means of hiding their faces behind sunglasses—useless, he had identified them all the moment they aimed their primitive guns at him.

"Sector Seven! Hold your hands up in the air." Then the lights climbed up the titanium limbs and at the deep blue optics of the Decepticon Seeker. "...My..._ God_..."

'Bonecrusher to Starscream, Sector Seven is on your tail and closing.'

The seeker looked around, his vents opening and expelling hot air as he found himself surrounded on all sides. There were several men yelling above the sirens and the deep strum of propellers. The two teenagers huddled by his pedes, the worn backpack eventually slipping from Sam's hands. Starscream gently bent to his knees as though he was about to jump into the air, shielding the two from the harsh lights. He flared out his wing flaps,

He hissed—_'Too late. They're already here._'

-x-

**A.N.:** I think that Sam and Mikaela are getting too much screen (Paper? Word? Web?) time. Heh, I turned Sam into a total spaz. I need to write more Autobot or something. It's like every chapter I write makes the previous one seem like a masterpiece argh. Does anyone have any requests who to kill/not to kill off? You know, just for reference. In case I need to build a bomb shelter... or something. I've been having recurring dreams (nightmares are classified as terrifying to the point I wake myself up) of failing to die. Or rather, things are failing to kill me.

Happy Valentines day everyone, happy Lunar New Years too, it's the year of the metal-white-tiger (wtf)!

**[1]**Processors – Last time I checked, a computer does not die because one kills the monitor. So I'm going to have to say, beheading is not as nearly as fatal to transformers as it is to human beings. It explains how so many Decepticons can come back to life in the movie. And because I'm liable to forget these things I'm just going to list:

Logic processors and meta processors (conception of reality) in the head

Central/core processors, inner processors (consciousness) inside the chest

Vocal processors where the neck is

**[2]**Goldbug – In the SG!verse Bumblebee was upgraded into 'Goldbug' after becoming an officer in the Autobot ranks.

**[3]**Jolt – surprise? How many of you are actually surprised? I first thought of using Smokescreen (who died in the comic adaption Reign of Starscream I believe) but then thought he was entirely too competent. So I had to give myself more work by using a character who didn't even get a single line in the movies... umm who is Jolt anyways? In this story, he is a medic apprentice under the tutelage of Ratchet. His profile says that he is snobbish and prone to making trouble so I hope I did that justice.


	6. Certain things happen

**Title: **Our New Divide

**Rating: **T

**Summary:** Sam receives a solid B for his genealogy report which means no car for the 17 year old Witwicky. That's okay; he now has an F-22 perched on his lawn instead.

**Warnings: **possible ooc-ness, brain-breakage, Shattered Glass, oh, the chapter is un-betaed, I know that I'll wake up later and end up doing a lot of editing.

**A.N.:** So sorry for the long wait. I had a nasty case of writer's block what with the story about to end in like... 2.5 chapters. Maybe. That and none of the characters seemed keen on being written... Of course, now with the finals coming up, I just had to finish this chapter.

Hope it was worth the wait and as always, thanks everyone for the reviews!

**Kitsune Swift **– Ah the femme part... guess it was too vague (or not there are at all ;.;) but Starscream has a noticeably different frame from Barricade or Bonecrusher. Somehow that got mixed up and was translated into Starscream being a different gender... something.

**Levannar **– I'll take that into consideration but you should probably know that I like torturing my favorite characters. It's a bit of a guilty pleasure thing.

**Swordsoul2000 **– Not sure I understood what you said about the Aerialbot thing completely (it's almost three in the morning). As for the other question, yes, and they will have significantly more fire power no matter what people say because I like things to blow up (again, 3 am over here). Have I ever mentioned that I love long reviews no matter what their content? Don't worry, the rest of the Decepticon cast will show up soon :D

-x-

"You have to understand" Thomas Banachek explained briskly as he popped open his brief case. He took out a laptop and inserted a portable hard drive in its side. The volume was muted but a small window appeared as the Sector Seven agent dragged appropriate video file into place. "There are some things you won't be able to accept right away."

The film began with a burst of static. "You may remember the Beagle 2 Mars Rover? It was lost and the mission declared a complete failure." He tilted the screen so the Secretary of Defense could see the rusty earth and steel-cast sky. "Well it wasn't, Beagle 2 transmitted 13 seconds. This was classified above top secret." The camera began to shake, more so that it could comfortably be attributed to the rugged terrain. Beagle 2 panned its camera, managing to capture a segment of its attacker and transmit before presumably being destroyed.

Keller felt his mouth go dry as he ran his palms over his face several times. Banachek raised a sardonic eyebrow, "obviously more than just a pile of Martian rocks." He pushed three glossy photographs forward, tapping one with a finger and pointing out, "this is the image from Mars." The Polaroid was of an excellent quality but there wasn't much to make out against the sun's harsh glare. He saw various gaps in what looked like an arm that suggested the being was not—for the lack of a better word—a flesh-and-blood organic creature.

Had Keller been a more superstitious man, he would have thought that the giant shadow with red eyes was a demon.

"This is the image your special ops team retrieved during the Qatar base attack."

The image was surprisingly well lit. They weren't exactly the same; but he could see the similarities between the two.

"And this," he tapped the last photo, the only one that seemed as though it had been taken at night. "Was taken little less than an hour ago outside Los Angeles, California." It was an aerial view of the attacker, the first time more than a quarter of its body had been captured on film. Before Keller could comment on the sheer surrealism of having an alien robot land in a suburban neighborhood, Banachek tilted the screen and played another file. Unlike the Beagle 2 mission, this one was accompanied by an audio clip—mostly of heavy propellers as the camera made a wide circle around the hill and over the neighborhood.

"My god..." The Secretary of Defense breathed out, pushing himself away from the screen. Banachek did nothing but continued to observe the film.

"_Holy shit!"_

"_What is that thing?"_

The alien was large, easily 30 feet tall and seemingly just as wide at its shoulders before the frame tapered down near its hips. The edge of its triangular body glowed iridescent yellow when the high beams from the helicopters hit its back. Keller briefly wondered if that wasn't dangerous—radioactive maybe—but then dismissed the idea. Obviously, this so-called Sector Seven had a lot more time on their hands to reflect upon this invader from outer space.

"_Jesus H. Christ, I think it can see me."_

"_Well don't look at it!"_

"_Fuck, is that Simmons down there?"_

"_Where?"_

"_Shit Carter, I nearly fell out!"_

The camera zoomed out and panned towards a crowd of small, black specks. One in particular broke away from the group and began scrambling on top of an armored van. It was a man—Simmons. He quickly began waving his arms around like a lunatic.

"_Echo-4 to control, N.B.E.-13 sighted. Agent Simmons is attempting to make contact..."_

"_N.B.E.-13, I am agent Simmons from Sector Seven. You are trespassing on American soil. State your business and identify yourself or we will use force."_

"_...bzzt... over..."_

"_...Echo-5 ready..."_

The alien robot took a step towards Sector Seven agent. Whatever conversation that might have passed between them was indecipherable. All they could see was the hard angles of the robot alien and the swivel of its hawkish head as it uttered a curt reply.

"_Sector Seven protocols, I'm not allowed to communicate with you outside the parameters given except to tell you that I cannot communicate with you. I repeat, N.B.E.-13, identify yourself."_

"_I am Starscream,"_ the alien said loudly in a scratchy voice. It threw a knowing glance into the camera lens that sent a chill down Keller's spine. _"A Decepticon scientist and warrior from planet Cybertron. I come in search of the Allspark and the one called Optimus Prime."_

"_You have no right to make demands after trespassing, damages to property and attempted access to military secrets."_

"Who is this man?"

"_...You will be detained until we determine that you pose no threat to the American nation! Any attempts to resist or to escape will be met with force!"_

"Agent Seymour Simmons, sir, head of Sector Seven Field Operations."

"_...We demand you release the hostages!"_

Hostages, Christ, he didn't know there were hostages involved.

As if on cue, the camera zoomed towards the trampled grass near the alien's feet. Two children were crouched alongside the metal toes, one of them—the boy—was even leaning against the alien's heavy ankles. After minutes of a standoff between the Sector Seven agents and the alien robot that could just as easily crush them beneath its foot, few of the braver men and women climbed down the hill and forcibly pulled the teenagers away from the alien's side. Their mouths opened wide in protest as Starscream stared down at all of them in faint disproval. The yellow lights of its sides had changed into a shade of light orange. It snapped its head sideways as Simmons addressed it once more.

"_If you do not hand over the AllSpark -static-, I cannot be held accountable for what is to come..."_

"_N.B.E.-13, stand down or we will use force!"_

Thomas Banachek quietly collected the three pictures.

"We believe that all three are of the same exoskeletal type."

"_All three_, lord almighty, there are more of these things?" Keller took in a deep breath. "Are we talking about an invasion?"

"We're not certain. But this Starscream is in custody and is currently being transported to a Sector Seven facility in Nevada. We are to meet them there," Banachek checked his watch, "right now Mister Secretary."

-x-

"We've retrieved Jolt" Skydive reported faithfully as he dropped the blue Chevrolet down on his aft. The young Autobot glared for a few moments before cowering before his mentor. Ratchet raised one optic ridge as Jolt scrambled to his pedes and saluted.

"I can see that." Ratchet said mildly, looking up from where he had finished welding Slingshot's wing together. The mostly white raptor moaned piteously but the Aerialbot leader couldn't see any spontaneous improvisions that the mad doctor liked to impose on his creations and faction mates. Other than the experimental angle adjustment that would provide the smallest raptor with a better maneuverability in air, he could see nothing particularly amiss—it was one of the better days to be in the infirmary.

Ratchet shooed his apprentice to the other side of the table. "Bumblebee?"

He shrugged noncommittally, the lights of his wings dimming.

"Skydive."

The medic warned, his optics sharpening from the usual hazy glow. His fingers parted from his creation as Skydive pushed past Jolt to brace Slingshot. Smallest or not, the raptor easily outweighed their progenitor by several tons.

"Perhaps Barricade will take pity on him, if he stays online long enough." The lights on his wings brightened. "He didn't have to pick on Silverbolt," he added in a low voice, "pit's sake, he gets enough from all of us."

Humming, Ratchet brushed a fond hand down a mended wing.

"Careful, wouldn't want to give this one ideas."

Slingshot scowled petulantly,

"He knows better." The grey jetformer said, but all the same, slipped the first digit of his claws in beneath the pale armor. The Aerialbot let out a mental squeal which elicited queries from the remaining members of their gestalt team. "He didn't have to steal Silverbolt's ration just because the idiot's too big to cover his own aft."

"Perhaps I should work on a radar for him," Ratchet mused thoughtfully, "replace the optics, it would certainly be more useful..."

Skydive tuned the medic out. Hopefully, the Concorde wouldn't land himself in the infirmary for the next few solar cycles.

-x-

"Screamer? What's going on?" Barricade ventured sluggishly as his chassis was welded back together. "Screamer...?" With a groan he kicked in reflex when the tactician pushed down too hard, causing his proto-mass to swell around the core processors. He began to overheat, the energon in his lines burning as swiftly as it was being replaced, Goldbug on the opposite side of him blinking blearily. He clutched the joints of Bonecrusher's servos before letting go. The other Decepticon gave him a shot of nanites before cutting the lines between him and the Autobot. Barricade felt a brief chill as he rebooted. His body only just starting to recover, he tried to access his damaged communications array once more. "Starscream?"

"Don't bother," Bonecrusher grunted, tapping his helm. "The frequencies are being jammed remember?"

"Were they?" the black-and-white mech frowned, feeling as though he had forgotten something important. The Decepticon tactician gave him a look akin to pity,

"Give it time."

"...I'm dying aren't I?"

Bonecrusher snorted, stretching and surreptitiously putting a pede down on Goldbug's backstrut when the yellow Autobot looked as though he would bolt. The two red lights focused on him in a daze, typical symptoms of energon-loss though it obviously hadn't been enough to send the mech into stasis-lock. Goldbug groveled marvelously, not a bad sight all things considered. Behind him Barricade squeaked—"Aww slag. Please tell me he didn't do what he just did."

When an answer was not forthcoming from the other mech the physicist slurred viciously, "But that's suicide. The humans know they can hurt us—!"

"Yeah, how dare he?" Bonecrusher said, dry as dust. "I hate it when our superiors think they're better than us."

Barricade pinned the other mech with a glare. "46% operational capacity, better transform before you knock yourself offline."

'Thought it was less work for you.' The police car sniped, testing out his engines and finding them less than satisfactory. His lights flickered erratically when they weren't spewing out sparks from broken wires. He felt about as road-worthy as Blackout.

Bonecrusher rolled his optics,

"I'd hate to explain to others why we need to find another pilot for the Nemesis."

'...Let me guess, you're going to _hate_ looking for another pilot.'

"That too." He agreed serenely, his optics turning momentarily green as he scanned Barricade's battered form.

The police car belched out a black cloud from his exhaust pile.

'We don't know that the humans will keep up their end of the bargain.'

"Pushy little flesh-bags weren't they?"

'Do we know where they're going?'

"No."

'Slag.'

The Autobot whined, something broken rattling around his inner compartments. Bonecrusher stepped off of a yellow door-wing and charged his laser pistol. Goldbug blanched visibly, fingers gripping the dirt as he looked from the hunched form of the Decepticon and Barricade's silence.

"You... you said that..."

Bonecrusher consider this seriously for a moment,

"Nothing personal. Just hate loose ends that's all."

'Wait...' The headlights maintained their steady beam, 'I got an idea.'

-x-

Despite advance warnings, Agent Alexander Powers couldn't help but gape up in astonishment as Starscream flew past the wall of solid rock. The two F-22s that had escorted him kept a watchful eye from above as the alien jet made a sharp turn towards where the men were standing. With panicked shouts, they were tossed back from the force of the jet's engines as it transformed in midair and landed. The earth shook, black asphalt shattering as the alien pierced them with blue optics. The signal lights on his wings colored into pale yellow as they were swung over his shoulders.

"N.B.E.-13?" Powers called out from behind the line of assault vehicles, a mouthpiece clutched in his bloodless hand. Starscream considered the man's soft face and idly flipped through the database.

"Starscream if you please Agent Powers."

The man looked taken aback at being identified so quickly. But he recovered marvelously and commanded,

"Follow me."

-x-

Human beings were quite ingenuitive if they felt so inclined—Starscream decided as he gingerly stepped inside the hollow chambers hidden beneath hundreds of tons of _solid rock_. Though he was not strictly claustrophobic, even he could not help the jolt of anxiety spiraling down the width of his lines. Brushing the thoughts aside, the jetformer submitted to scans by relatively primitive equipment—occasionally heading off attempts at disassembling his limbs—when a familiar energy output caught his attention. A small hiccup caught in his vocal processors, Starscream's mandibles fell slack as he pushed forward boldly, ignoring the chatters of protests at his ankles as he beheld the long-lost core of Cybertron.

The cube was suspended in midair though nothing held it aloft. His spark, which had been beating steadily beneath his chassis began to fluctuate madly at the sheer proximity. The Seeker let out a toneless purr and attempted to draw closer only to be stopped by the sudden cacophony of safeties being flicked off.

Powers barked—"Step away from the cube."

Pausing, Starscream considered the situation for a moment and decided regretfully that he would cause immeasurable damage should he have to fight his way through the Allspark. At any rate, he wasn't done with Sector Seven. And there was something strange about the organization that he had yet to put a claw on.

"It..." Starscream rasped, wincing at the limitations of human language. "...Does not belong to you."

Powers bristled,

"On the contrary, that is the property of the United States. You are here as our prisoner..."

Starscream was about to retort indignantly that he had _chosen_ to come quietly and could just as easily _choose_ to leave (though sans the quiet part) when a voice called out cheerily—"Not anymore."

A man appeared from the adjunct hallway, raising an eyebrow at the cavernous chamber and its cube-shaped centerpiece before joining them. Two women followed from behind, one dressed impeccably in a beige suit and another in a crinkled lab coat. The latter was flushed, her hair disarray as she ran to keep up with the longer strides of the other woman.

The newcomer grinned up at him, dimpled and surprisingly sincere.

"I'm Agent Nicholas Jackson; this is Special Agent Dominique Loiseaux. I'd offer you a hand but I'm rather fond of it."

"Greetings, I am Starscream."

"Jackson, what are you doing here?" Powers spat through gritted teeth. The man—Jackson—merely shrugged, looking wholly unruffled for a man who was standing in front of a giant robot. He slid Loiseaux a quick, searching look. Loiseaux gave a sniff, content to look down at the Sector Seven agents with an air of disdain.

"We're here on the behalf of Secretary Keller and the USAF." He answered with a wan smile, "Obviously I thought they were joking when they flew me out of Alaska for this." The last word was accompanied by a whistle as he took in his surroundings.

"I assure you, this is no joke."

Jackson held up a hand soothingly, "Oh, no, no, this... this is very serious."

"_N.B.E-13_" The man stressed, "is to remain in our custody as per agreement."

The Seeker was about grumbled with discontent when the female agent spoke up frostily,

"Your orders have been rescinded Agent Powers. On the matter of national security, we have been ordered to step in."

"This is Sector Seven. You have no..."

"Direct orders from the president," Jackson added smoothly, "Not even Sector Seven is above that."

"This facility...!"

"Starscream?"

Starscream frowned at the use of his name, the high-pitched frequency oddly familiar to his audio processors.

"Sam?" He called uncertain as more people spilled into the large chamber. The denizens of the Hoover Dam base, if they hadn't been staring before, were certainly staring now. From the crowd of black-suited agents to the group of bedraggled soldiers who were twitching worse than Sideways on an energon trip, a pair of teenagers who were supposed to be at home in their beds together or otherwise, another agent whom he quickly identified as the Sector Seven's head of Advance Research Division, Simmons, and the United States Secretary of Defense himself.

"Sam, Mikaela," the Starscream addressed carefully, "what are you doing here?" when he felt the protests about to burst forth from Powers' mouth, the Seeker extended his wing flaps, the lights bright yellow and bade the teenagers to explain.

"We, we, we... we... we don't know. They just brought us here." The boy seemed genuinely bewildered to find himself inside a secret black-ops base. He also kept looking back towards the archway they had just exited from. Sighing, Starscream scraped his pede against the concrete flooring and turned his attention to Mikaela who seemed to have a firmer awareness of her surroundings.

"The Allspark," she blurted out, pale eyes darting nervously. "They're doing experiments with it. It was horrible."

"Listen here young lady..." Simmons stepped forward to grab the girl's arm, Starscream let out a hiss (in reality relieving the pressure on his knee joints) and the man backed away, both hands raised.

"They have Optimus Prime in the back; they're calling him N.B.E.-1"

"That is classified information, you're not supposed to..."

"I believe," Starscream cut in, flexing his talons ominously. "The agreement was that I would abide by your frivolous rules as long as the younglings were left unharassed."

"Fat good that did, they watched you go for like two seconds before stuffing us into a chopper."

"Simmons, you _brought_ the teenagers here?"

"...That explains a lot..."

"Well no wonder this place eats up funds like..."

"...I want a direct line with the president..."

"HEY!" One of the soldiers shouted. He was a survivor of the Autobot's attack in Qatar—a captain according to the bars on his shoulder. "Anyone mind telling us just what the _hell_ is going on here?" A small murmur of agreement rippled through the group, even Banachek was nodding slightly.

"Extinction," Starscream provided, staring coolly from one horrified face to another as he elaborated, "for all of us if you do not cooperate."

"That is non-negotiable." Powers interjected, "we've had the cube for a century and..."

"The Autobots have not been here for a century." The jet waved a languid hand over the scene inside the Sector Seven base. "And I assure you, even without your eagerness to gloat; we would have found this place sooner or later."

The man fumed while others shuffled awkwardly on their feet.

Sam snickered.

Frowning, Jackson asked cautiously,

"Look... I'm going on a limb here and guess that you're the good guys?"

"Yes,"

"And we are supposed to believe that you will help us and keep us safe out of the goodness of your heart?" said Powers scathingly.

"Oh no." Starscream purred, "But right now, the Autobots are a more pressing threat to you. In fact, there is one above us right now."

"What?"

"Why didn't you tell us this before?"

Starscream cocked his head,

"If I had shot him down, would you have granted me a chance at explanation before doing the same?"

"You're good," Jackson said admiringly, one disruptive force to another.

"Thank you."

"What about your guys?" Captain Lennox shouted, "They're coming right?"

"My team and I have been cut off from the main strike force. But I have faith in them... they will not abandon me so easily."

"Terrific, you can't get in contact with them."

The dark-skinned sergeant beside him had a more succinct way of viewing things—"Shit"

"W... wait, wait, wait," Sam said in a panicked tone, "you're going to fight the entire army? By _yourself_?"

"One Aerialbot hardly construes an army."

Loiseaux raised an immaculately penned eyebrow, "One Aerialbot."

"There are five in total; they make up the bulk of Autobot aerial force."

"And he hasn't attacked yet because..."

"This chamber prevents the energy output of the Allspark from being detected... at least until one touches the walls. Air Raid will not attack because he does not know what is here—he probably suspects the presence of Optimus Prime but that means that he will be unable to carry out a direct attack until further orders. It will buy us some time, it will also grant him the opportunity to call for reinforcements." The pale yellow blended with a shade of white-blue. "He will know that I would not remain unless there was something truly important here."

"Wonderful." Lennox muttered, "So how are we going to get that thing out of here?"

"What are you suggesting?" Powers demanded, "That we give up this base?"

The survivors of Qatar base attack stared at the Sector Seven agent in mild disbelief,

"You can't be serious. If you'd seen what they did to us in Qatar..."

"Trust me captain, I know exactly what they did."

Secretary Keller finally spoke up,

"Agent Jackson, are those F-22's still in the air?"

"Yes sir, but..."

"Turn them around."

The man opened his mouth, looking stunned.

"Sir?"

"That's an order _colonel_."

"Sir," Jackson protested, "I no longer hold that rank and even if I did..." the brunette swallowed at the grim countenance reflected on the older man's face. "Yes sir."

Keller turned to the others.

"Now, do we have a plan...?"

-x-

Air Raid idly flew over the Colorado River, navigating the canyon walls and teasing the water's surface with the tip of his wings. His chronometer reminded the Aerialbot that it was nearly sunrise and that he should regain altitude if he did not want to be detected by prying eyes. He ignored the alert and continued to skim just above the edge of the security cameras around the site. The energon in his fuel tank was beginning to thin casting a mild euphoric effect over his programming. It was at times like these that Air Raid felt the best, the fine line between hunger and contentment, when his processors became clear enough to _think_.

When two blips appeared on his radar travelling at near supersonic speeds, the jet rose to greet them, a war cry building up in his thrusters as the lights on his wings flashed pale red.

-x-

"You're a colonel."

Starscream asked casually as Jackson rubbed a hand over his face.

"Yep. Was."

"That is not in your file."

"And yet I was granted the authority to send two men to their deaths."

"Sometimes sacrifices are necessary."

Jackson laughed,

Silence ensued until,

"Sir? Our communications are down...!" technician one shouted out.

"Visuals are gone!" Added technician two.

This prompted everyone to gather in front of the massive computer system Sector Seven possessed. Some of the agents were citing protocol to download as much information as possible onto a portable hard drive. These were at once confiscated by Agent Loiseaux. Agent Powers shot the dark-skinned woman before commanding,

"Well get them back!"

The woman in the crinkled lab coat pushed forward to slide a keycard into one of the available ports. It was spat out as quickly as it had gone in further stirring the technicians into a state chaos as Alexander Powers pulled his own key card out.

"Step aside." Starscream rumbled, gently nudging the humans away from the consoles. Pausing briefly to assess the level of technology, he coaxed a tangle of wires from his wrist and proceeded to hack into the mainframe.

Inside, he found traces of Air Raid's work, crude and undefined, designed solely for the purpose of thwarting the humans. Unimpressed, Starscream triggered the bugs to self-destruct and accessed the frayed communication lines. It took longer than he would have liked—he wasn't _Soundwave _after all—but he found a satellite to bounce signals off of and immediately hailed the Nemesis.

'This is Starscream calling the Nemesis.'

'Starscream? This is Nemesis. Query: Status report?'

'AllSpark has been found. Optimus Prime has been found. Current status: in stasis.'

There was an echo of an elated mental whoop in his spark chamber as the vocal manifestation carried over his communications array.

'Status of the Nemesis?'

'Autobot enemies destroyed, Arcee drones remaining hidden. Constructicons ready for deployment. High Lord Megatron, Brawl and Blackout approaching your location. ETA: 1.2 cycles'

'Acknowledged'

'Good luck'

He shifted channels, calling out for his earth-bound teammates.

'Bonecrusher, Barricade, Frenzy, rendezvous at coordinates: 36.015556, -114.737778'

'This is Bonecrusher, what's the situation?'

'Allspark has been located. Autobots are closing in. Evacuation: estimated 78% success rate.'

'Grab the cube and get out of there.'

'Negative. Optimus Prime is also here.'

'Frag, I hate Tuesdays.'

A string of incomprehensible words as Frenzy broke into their communication line.

'Hang in there commander, Bonecrusher out.'

Starscream pulled himself out of the systems, maintaining the connection long enough for the computers to reboot. He didn't know why he'd bothered, there was no conceivable way of defending the dam from the onslaught of Autobots soon to come. When the delicate wires coiled back beneath his exoskeleton, he addressed Secretary Keller, whom he assumed was in command.

"Hand over the cube, if you will not do it willingly I will take it though I'd prefer if I do not have to resort to violence." And he lifted his arms, displaying the lasers mounted on them. "There is a war brewing, even amongst yourselves. I do not have the time to fix your communication lines but I have introduced a program to counteract the damage so you may recover."

"Reinforcements are on the way but they will be too late," Starscream stated matter-of-factly, "you must escape while you still can."

"What about you?" Sam croaked, stepping close, hand almost touching Starscream's sickle-shaped claw.

"I must save the Allspark, if Optimus Prime is indeed here I will... deactivate him."

The survivor's of the Qatar base attack were already moving, the jeeps mounted with weapons and stocked full of explosives. They couldn't destroy the base itself of course, that would mean the destruction of Hoover dam and wasn't something easily explained away. In the mean time, computers were being shut down, energy being rerouted elsewhere. Starscream was tempted to log back into the mainframe to find out what exactly was in the archives of the Hoover dam base but resisted—time was of the essence now if he wanted everyone to get out alive.

Loiseaux had secured most of the scientists to priority one evacuation. Jackson looked as though he was about to punch Powers in the face if the other agent disagreed. Banachek and Simmons stood by, awaiting orders.

Keller didn't trust himself to speak and nodded his head in agreement.

-x-

Starscream stood uncertain now that he was in the possession of the Allspark. He had been told tales when he was young, he had seen photos, the scans, and the extensive research surrounding the mysterious core of Cybertron. But the actual artifact itself had been housed in Simfur and available to limited audiences. Obviously he hadn't been one of the privileged few. In fact the first—_and last_—time he had seen it he had been...

He held out his servo to trace the glyphs on the golden surface of the Allspark. Immediately, he cringed back at the electricity that leapt between them. There were hushed murmurs at his feet, Powers vocally announcing his dissent. Starscream sighed, knowing somehow that one way or another he would live to regret this moment. He dug both of his talons into the grooves on the side of the Allspark and inserted a command code.

The effect was instantaneous.

The Allspark began to shift, dividing into lines and small sections as it shifted in size and mass. Energy waves lanced out, the human frivolities around it unable to withstand the backlash of the cube's transformation. Starscream let out a voiceless scream as the Allspark warped in his hands, using him as a lightning rod to diffuse the energy. He should have been glad he knew—_he would survive but the humans wouldn't have_—but at the moment all he could think was the agony coursing through his _spark_.

He fell to his knees after what seemed like joors to a small, perfectly-shaped cube caught between his fore claw and thumb. Starscream rebooted his optics, feeling as though he had just jammed his digits into an electric socket. The lenses in his blue optics began to focus and he noticed that his talons were no longer blunt with neglect but sharpened to pre-battle conditions.

He looked down at the humans who were looking up at him with something akin to amazement and terror.

_This wasn't supposed to happen but the Allspark was so hungry..._

"Hurry."

"What?"

"Air Raid will know," Starscream choked out, his processors cycling overtime to cool down the congealed mass of lines within. "He knows that the Allspark is here."

-x-

"_This is Air Raid. Allspark has been located."_

A Porsche rolled out from its garage, its silver paint job gleaming as it headed out into the coming dawn.

'Alright~! Look alive lil' bitches, this is Jazz talkin' –All Autobots mobilize.'

A blue Chevrolet ran past the human police, uncaring of the destruction it caused as it darted from lane to lane.

'Jolt en route'

Three rider-less motorcycles jumped in front of the traffic, the pink leader landing on the roof of a white van with a crash.

'Arcee reporting...'

Three jets surged ahead in a v-formation,

'Aerialbots incoming...'

A concord descended on the interstate, terrifying the drivers on all sides as it opened its undercarriage to reveal a black truck.

'Ironhide rolling—All hail Optimus Prime!'

Hidden beneath mountains of concrete and rock, a frozen behemoth began to shiver in anticipation.

-x-

**A.N.: **Again, it's 3 am in the morning, I apologize if none of the notes make sense.

**[1]Ratchet **- In the SG universe, Ratchet was someone whom Optronix would send patients to as punishment rather than healing. If you wanted your repairs done, you went to either Hoist or Fixit. Otherwise you'd end up with body parts missing or replaced like with Hot Rod whose stint at rebellion lost him a hand and gained him a saw blade in its place.

**[2] Ratchet and the Aerialbots** – The short story is, Ratchet helped create them. The long story is, it's complicated, I might think about it after finishing this chapter.

**[3]Lights on wings **– Most fics that I read generally agree that Seekers are very vocal.

...Which is true I guess but hard to put into practice when you're flying through space half your life. So in my story, Seekers and most flyers are visual creatures. They communicate through various frequencies of light since they perceive UV rays differently than normal mechs do. They're like the intergalactic mood-rings! (sorta)

**[4]Alexander Powers** – I realize that in the back stories, he was fired (how does one working in a secret agency revolving around the existence of aliens get another job after this? I mean what do you put on your CV afterwards?) but I needed a certifiable grade-A asshole.

Simmons didn't quite make the cut

**[5]OCs** – honestly? It seemed like a good idea at the time.

**[6]Allspark **– In the movie, it spawned countless Decepticons and restored Frenzy to good health. In this situation, the obvious conclusion is that the cube is a Decepticon, which is why it healed/restored 'Screamer's health. I mean, haven't you wondered why in between carrying the damn thing in his backseat, Bumblebee never regained his voice? (/snark)


	7. The death of a fine voice

**Title:**Our New Divide

**Rating:**T

**Summary:** Sam receives a solid B for his genealogy report which means no car for the 17 year old Witwicky. That's okay; he now has an F-22 perched on his lawn instead.

**Warnings:**possible ooc-ness, brain-breakage, Shattered Glass. This chapter is un-betaed.

.

**Starfire201** – to be honest, the Allspark-Decepticon bit was a joke ;D

And yes, I thought Megatron was a little too coherent for a dude who's been on ice for... who knows how long.

**Fire From Above** – No, Powers did not shoot anyone—I'm sure he wants to at this point. Starscream is a pacifist and I guess he figured anyone who was prepared enough to fight him probably knows about his kind.

Thanks everyone for reviewing :D

-x-

"Take me to him." Starscream said suddenly, holding the cube lightly between his claws. Most stared at him, taken aback by the absence of scratches and rasps that had dotted the Seeker's words from the beginning. Others speculated, drawing convoluted connections from the Allspark's miniaturization. The Seeker stood up, his wingtips trembling with the strain of keeping his and the cube's energy fields from overlapping. Red lines crawled over his vision, citing fuel loss and partial corruption of his priority programs. He ignored it, grimacing inwardly as the warning was cast away into the corner of his left optic.

"Take me to the one you call N.B.E.-1"

-x-

'_Multiple_ _Decepticon signatures: __Detected_'

Jazz closed the comm. link and saluted to the sky.

"That's good work Sky. Now ladies," he turned to the three Autobot sisters**[1]** and their army of drones. The lead pink Arcee stared at him expectantly, her optics bright and alert. She punched back a drone that had strayed too close; it fell back with a whirr when the headlights broke. Her purple sister let out a snorting giggle, the blue Arcee stoically ignored the scene. "Are you ready—?"

"Born ready sir," the pink Arcee replied, her battle-helm sliding down her narrow face as her two sisters raced ahead down the hills where they had set ambush. She folded herself into her vehicle mode and gave a chase, a swarm of black and red following after her.

The Autobot lieutenant gave an appreciative whistle before transforming to take his part in their little war.

'I just _loooove_ the smell of energon in the morning.'

-x-

"Primus..."

Starscream disconnected his optics for a full Earth minute before rebooting them. He repeated the process fruitlessly once more, twice, thrice, wondering if he wasn't suffering hallucinations as a side effect of the Allspark draining his systems in order to restore him. It was the only explanation that he could think of—the only _logical _explanation—to elucidate the anomalies he was witnessing—_he was running on nothing but fumes! _

Or maybe, he thought with a touch of desperation creeping up on him, the lenses of his optics hadn't been grown properly. Perhaps the layers of glass weren't thick enough or even too thin. It was one of many problems medics encountered with Seekers and too some extent, other flyers. Though they could grow spare lenses given time, the process often resulted in a temporary myopia while the glass was smoothed down to the right thickness and shape. A tiny imperfection on the surface of the lens would be more than enough to cause the ghost-like apparitions on the periphery of his hyperactive vision. But even as he looked around, switching from filter to filter, the scene didn't change. If anything, the broken limbs became clearer, more focused.

All around him lay empty frames like the ones he had seen after the fall of Praxus. The bodies of the fallen had been left behind to be stripped down and scavenged of all useful parts; armor, processors, limbs, wings, wiring—_everything_. What little the scavengers deemed useless, a flux of mechano-vultures and turbofoxes feasted upon. In less than a cyber-week, there was nothing left but skeletons of mechs littering the once great city-state.

He shuddered as the logic programming took over, automatically scanning the surroundings for pertinent information about the mechs' demise. His battle computer went on a standby, in case he needed to make a quick escape.

He recognized the body closest to him as the gutted remains of a fighter plane—but no further, too badly damaged for a positive ID. Its wings were gone as was its tail and the part of its nosecone. Its empty spark chamber was clearly visible from all angles, the broken edges still sharp and pointed. It was _vulgar_, his processor allowed, it was what might have been the discovery of a naked corpse with its legs spread to humans.

And he saw that not all wounds were fatal—or at least they shouldn't have been. At most, they were deep enough to peel back the layers of armor and derma to pierce the proto-mass beneath. The downed flyer had none of the heavy insulation around his exposed core processor and spark chamber. There were also crusts of iridescent crystal growth around the plane's undercarriage, suggesting that the fighter—_the Seeker_—had been alive during the violent vivisection. Its undisturbed development suggested that the phenomenon was common place enough that it had been left alone—_just how many had been through these chambers?_ **[2][3]**

The data processed lead to the conclusion that the damage was too precise to have been inflicted during a firefight. Not even Ratchet with his arm-saws and a disturbing amount of fascination towards anatomy would have taken the time to do it.

And what even their enemies wouldn't do, the humans _did_.

But perhaps the greatest insult of all was that these humans—_these insects_—were still cutting into the supine bodies right before his optics.

Behind him, Keller turned to the Sector Seven agents for answers. But it wasn't out of concern for the dead Cybertronians.

"Agent Powers?"

"Sir," Powers answered reluctantly, trying to muster up an air of importance even as the workers were called down to form a line. "They were ordered to gather all pertinent data of our research before the evacuation."

"Yes, yes, brilliant idea." Agent Jackson said scathingly, "desecrate the remains of his people in front of him, by all means."

"To be fair Agent Jackson," Special Agent Loiseaux pointed out, "it is not even certain that these beings are capable of emotion."

"Ohh," Jackson blew through his teeth, looking up at the tall jetformer. "I'd say it's a fair assessment."

Starscream let out a small click.

"You were searching for a way to stop us. Did you find it?"

Powers deflated visibly,

"No."

"No," Starscream repeated, his voice oddly hollow without the familiar gritty texture and loops. "Of course you wouldn't have, how could you? They were barely alive when you found them. Did it ever occur to any of you that someone might be looking for them?"

Silence

The Seeker threw them an unreadable look as he traced the runes on the Allspark. The subtle friction made its energy fields flare, visible to the naked eye. Sparks skittered down the length of his claws, burning ghost-like smudges across their surface.

"They were regaled as heroes in our world, lost. Now I find them suffering a less deserving death than those of unwanted server-hounds culled by noblemechs. Tell me, why am I still here?"

Agent Jackson stepped forward, his features set.

He thought that he and the man could have been friends under different circumstances. Jackson was a strange creature, a deviant even within his set social circle. He had seen how Powers and even his partner Loiseaux look at him as though they couldn't quite make heads or tails of the Agent-Colonel. Starscream noticed other things as well; like how the man's eyes, pale blue but opaque, were flecked with grey like a storm brewing.

And how he was in none of the extensive databases provided by Sector Seven's network.

His talons clenched unconsciously around the Allspark.

"Because we've got a problem big guy. Look, I'm sorry you found them like this, I really am. I can't say that I know why they've ended up here, I don't even know how. But I do know that the ones you came with—_your men_—are still out there. And they're waiting for you; they're waiting for you to show up with that thing."

Starscream was silent, his blue optics fixated upon the dead. Then with a groan, he broke off from mourning and knelt before them, singling out Sam with a laconic bow.

"Can I trust you?"

"What?" The teenager asked in surprise, more at the smooth rumble of the Decepticon's voice than anything else.

Wordlessly, Starscream spread his claws, presenting the Allspark.

Sam unconsciously reached out and caught it in his hands. It was incredibly light for a fifty foot block of metal folded down to a cube. It was also warm, like a water bottle left out too long in the sun.

"Do not stop running." Starscream ordered, "The Autobots will be unable to detect its presence for a short time—that's the best I can explain it. Pass it onto Barricade or Bonecrusher, they will arrive soon enough. If they ask... tell them that I sent you."

"What are you going to do?" Mikaela asked, looking up at the mech.

Starscream shook his head, his fearsome hawk-mask giving nothing away.

"It cannot be helped—I must deactivate him."

When the others made a movement to follow as he stood up, he let out an exasperated click and raised his wings. "Go, I do not want you to see this—_any of you_." He stuttered, his head jerking left as he stepped sideways. There were shrieks as a stray cart was crushed where the bird-like toes landed.

"Get down!"

An F-15C Eagle flew into the room, its wedge-shaped wings scraping against the sides of the walls and severely bent from its abrupt entrance. Starscream launched himself at it in its mid-transformation, using the advantage of his superior body weight to shove the red-and-white raptor into the other chamber.

"Starscream!"

"GO!"

He saw Agent Jackson pull the boy out of sight and received a fist to the underside of his helm for his efforts. Air Raid squawked, recognizing the familiar energy signature moving away from them both. He threw the Seeker an incredulous look and back towards where the humans had gone, struggling to get his pedes beneath himself. Starscream pushed him aside, talons flashing in warning as they raked the air.

The other flyer let out a disgruntled boom with his turbines, using the blunted edges of his wings as contusive objects. He parried the blows and caught the Autobot in the exposed space between the helm and the torso. Air Raid spat and let out a curse when a bright spray of energon stained them both. Starscream used this distraction to blast the entrance shut, sealing them inside the frozen chamber with the inert form of Optimus Prime.

-x-

'I hate driving long distance.'

'Yeah,' Barricade quipped, his com scratchier than he would have liked, 'anyone got a space bridge handy?'

'Cute'

At that point Frenzy joined them with his undecipherable warble, music blasting out of his speakers at random times. The cassette maneuvered Bumblebee with more ease than either mech was comfortable with. Barricade shuddered inwardly when he thought about every time they'd linked up to one another.

'...And Soundwave unleashes yet another unholy spawn into this universe...'

'Wait till the next one.'

'Guysdon'tlooknowbutwe'vegotcompany!'

'!'

A jet flew past them at supersonic speeds, shattering glass as its wing divided the line between Barricade, Bonecrusher and Goldbug.

'That's Slingshot'

'Ya think! How'd he get so close?'

'My radars are broken, what's your excuse!'

Bonecrusher didn't bother replying. He transformed, skating on his pedes as his two compatriots passed him. Slingshot dove close, obviously curious as to why Goldbug was accompanying them. With a tilt of his wing, he spun out of the way just in time as Bonecrusher aimed his laser pistol at him.

'Missed~!'

The Harrier sang smugly, blasting off into the air but not out of sight.

Bonecrusher growled.

But before he could take another shot, motorcycles appeared on all sides and surrounded them. They cut the dusty-colored mech off from Barricade, boxing the battered Mustang in a ring.

"Traitor!" A purple Arcee declared as she blew Goldbug's tires out. The yellow Chevrolet honked loudly before rolling to a stop. He transformed, grabbing the purple Arcee by her neck as he snapped her right arm off. The femme let out a high-pitched wail, stirring the drones into a state of fervor as her sister jumped on the yellow mech's back.

Suddenly, out of the blue, shots began to fire, peppering the drones with magnesium flares and armor piercing rounds.

'It's the humans' Bonecrusher reported, pulling a red and black drone apart.

'Quick question, do they know that we're the good guys?'

Bonecrusher ducked and Barricade wisely swerved behind a line of red-and-black motorcycles as Bumblebee was taken down, Frenzy quick to jump the ship when he was able. He was collected by a drone that got a kick in the face for her troubles.

'Okay, nevermind.'

'I hate it when this happens.'

'Lookslikethey'vebroughttherestoftheparty...!'

'Don't panic 'Zy.'

'I'm not panicking!'**[4]**

'Start panicking,' Bonecrusher grunted over their comm. prepared for the worst.

Barricade sped ahead,

'What the frag are you doing?'

'I'm Improvising!'

-x-

"We were created to be better than you." Air Raid muttered petulantly as he was forced to submit, the lights on his the remnants of his wings crackling loudly as they exploded in their sockets. He hissed, wounded and angry as his turbine cycled the stale and frozen air beneath the dam. The bleeding was already slowing, the damage clotting with the abundance of proto-flesh at the base of his wings. His sensors pinged to suggest that he find a competent medic in the next few cycles. The Aerialbot had to wonder why it was his sensors that always survived a beating.

He shied away from Starscream's touch, clicking and snapping his mandibles at the offered hand. The Seeker snorted at the response though his optics were not wholly unkind.

"It's like Thunder says—you don't mess with this level of perfection."

Air Raid let out a strained chuckle,

"You could have been good with us, now you're nothing more than a dirty war-make."

"It's nothing that wouldn't have happened had I stayed."

"Perhaps..." the jetformer's servos twitched, his optics dimming as he slowly entered stasis lock. "But now we'll never know."

-x-

"Oh shit! Stop! Stop! Don't shoot!" Sam screamed when he saw a battered mustang with what vaguely appeared to be a black-and-white paint job. To be honest, it was barely recognizable as a car, more like wreckage on wheels.

"Cade!"

"Hi kids," and when all available hand guns and rifles—machine guns were too busy firing at the line of Autobot drones—were aimed at him, Barricade lowered the volume and let out an unapologetic—"_sorry_" for all the burst ear drums.

"We've got the Allspark!"

"Shit kid! That is not something you shout out about!"

"Wait," Barricade started, "then how come I can't..."

He heard the ill concealed databurst from Sky Dive as he announced—'Allspark energy: _detected_.'

And Jazz's chilling answer—'_commence bombing_!'

"Frag they're going to..." he cut himself off and called, '_Bonecrusher_!'

The Decepticon tactician heard but couldn't answer as he was mobbed by a swarm of Arcee units, whom, in another lifetime he might have admittedly flirted with. Frenzy, free of such burdens, hijacked**[5]** a drone and vaulted over another to scream,

"INCOMING!"

Hearing the Casseticon's warning or perhaps hearing the jet engines from above, the line of cars attempted to scatter but too late. Barricade began to bodily knock the heavy, military-issue jeeps off-road and into the dirt, honking when the people driving them didn't seem to get a clue. By the time he came back to the one Sam and Mikaela were on, the vehicle was lurching from a missing tire.

'Oh slag'—Barricade transformed to shield the jeep with his body. Then the bombings began.

-x-

"Optimus Prime." Starscream breathed, inadvertently attaching the suffix '-_Prime_' to a mech who no longer deserved the title. "After all this time it is you who have found Allspark first. How it must have rankled you to have it at your fingertips yet unobtainable."

He hooked a claw beneath the cracked windshield, gently teasing the latch open. What he couldn't simply pry apart with brute strength and a little wiggle room, he brought his nullrays to until at last the armor locks opened and the leader of the Autobots stood vulnerable before him.

Starscream frowned when he saw that the core processors were working at a normal—albeit lowered—capacity. He looked up at the masked and glazed face, sphinx-like and unwilling to give its secrets away. His clawtips fluttered before the blank optics, neither seeing nor feeling a trace of consciousness in the unlit bulbs. He turned his attention back to the task at hand, shifting through wire, lamina of proto-mass cringing away from his wicked sharp claws. The thermal regulator was fried, which was why the humans had been able to keep the Autobot down for this long. But the internals were active and healthy for those that had been neglected for more than a hundred vorns. It seemed to sigh at the long forgotten caresses as it willingly parted to reveal the spark chamber housed within.

No two sparks were alike, though color was largely an inherited trait. The general population leaned towards paler hues of the spectrum like light blue, green, red or yellow. Rarely was the spark completely absent of color. He himself had been told that the core of his spark was white with a webbing of electric blue running through it—"_like fine grade_." Thundercracker said once, admiring its brightness. The exhibitionist streak in the blue jet had granted him with the sight of a wounded spark, pearly grey with whorls of blue curled within.

Skywarp's spark was known amongst the Seeker's for its odd lavender cast while Ramjet's spark was pale red; Dreadwing's a bright yellow-orange. He knew that the Constructicons, including Bonecrusher, shared a vivid green spark and that Barricade possessed one that could only be described as pastel blue. He had had a rare honor of seeing High Lord Megatron's spark chamber once but never had he seen a spark the color of a dying supernova.

He focused the lens and magnified the view, wondering if there wasn't a structural anomaly that would have caused the unusual coloring. Then he remembered that Air Raid lay on the ground, only meters away, and his brothers would not be far behind. They would be the first to arrive after the impulsive raptor's call if they did not stop to pick up other Autobots along the way.

He charged his null rays to full power and pressed a talon against the still warm processors.

"My apologies for being failing to take you alive. Farewell."

He felt the lines in his vocal processors tear as it was crushed in Optimus Prime's hands. He let out a single, distressed click, the shattered pieces of his voice box shredding the delicate construct of his throat. Blue-white energon erupted in his mouth, spilling down his parted mandibles and painting his golden canopy as his vision faded black. His meta-processor held on stubbornly, disjointed red scrawls giving him a cheerful warning that in addition to Allspark-induced starvation, his head was about to pop off.

"So," the mech rumbled, lifting a thumb to trace the outer edges of the fearsome hawk-faced helm. "The prodigal son returns."

-x-

**A.N.:** And of course Starscream's voice wasn't meant to be =D

Writing this chapter has resembled building a house in Sims2 in many ways. You first build the foundation, the walls... you put on a roof and start painting, and tiling, and flooring. Then you add artful touches like that fake, plastic flamingo out on your lawn. Yes, the one you keep kicking down and propping back up just to do it again.

Hmm... oh yeah, this chapter was supposed to be longer what with all the fighting scenes, the other Decepticons, yadda, yadda, but I thought this was a nice place to end it in a sort of cliffhanger-y way. So there is one more chapter to go before the epilogue. So that's two chapters? -groans- Don't worry, I will finish this... somehow...

Hope you enjoyed this exciting installment...!

**[1]** **Arcee(s) **- Even though I haven't made clear distinctions in this story... the pink Arcee is Arcee, the blue Arcee has been credited to Chromia so who's the purple Arcee? Is she Elita-one or not? Wait, didn't Starscream kill her before ROTF? But this story chronologically takes place before her death so... I've just given myself another headache.

**[2]** **Seekers(1) **- Regarding Seekers that appeared in ROTF, would Simmons have been dismissed that quickly when he came up with a comprehensive list/photographs of suspected Transformers living on Earth? As a government agency specializing in extraterrestrial technology and threats, would it kill them to check some of them out?

Yes, getting their hands on a genuine SR-71 might have led to several layoffs and bounced checks but in the comics, Soundwave sent Grindor to find a rusting _car_. It wouldn't be that difficult to replace them with replicas while they made sure that the Ford T-Model was in fact a Ford T-Model and not some giant robot cleverly in disguise.

**[3]** **Seekers(2) **- Does anyone know who these Seekers were? I've heard some say that the Hudson Steam Locomotive is actually Astrotrain in disguise but the Ford T-Model and the rest are kind of hard to place...

**[4] Frenzy - **In Bay!verse, Frenzy was the little guy that sprouted gibberish and acted like he was on speed... or at least a robot equivalent. In SG!verse, he is apparently a thoughtful and rational soul. So unable to let go of either personalities I've decided that Frenzy is rather excitable until he's placed in a critical situation, then he becomes level-headed.

Maybe I should have just gone with him being bipolar—

**[5] Hacking - **In this story, Frenzy's abilities are to hook up to another transformer and hijack their body. Obviously, drones are the easiest to infiltrate. Gestalt teams would be difficult seeing as how they're a collection of several different mechs. And tend to be quite large. Superion would have stomped him flat before he could reach anything in the first place.


	8. To reap tomorrow

**Title:** Our New Divide

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** Sam receives a solid B for his genealogy report which means no car for the 17 year old Witwicky. That's okay; he now has an F-22 perched on his lawn instead. SG!AU

**Disclaimer: **By this time you guys all know, I never have and probably never will own the Transformers franchise.

**Warning:** Un-betaed as always. Beware of loose technical details that may not make a whole lot of sense.

.

"This is a _disgrace_."

The Aerialbots flew over the cloud of dust formed in the lieu of their attack. The heat and residual EMP scrambled their radars and muffled their communications. They heard nothing but static as they prompted the ground troops one by one, each channel quieter than the last.

In the sky, the sun was an indolent red, signaling the beginnings of yet another cycle on the primitive planet. Silverbolt let out a small moan as he was forced to circle and take to the higher skies, his wings aching with pleasure at being in the open air while his spark longed to touch the ground. Slingshot fired off rapid insults at the Concorde, gleefully searching below for signs of wreckage or a torn limb. Fireflight was humming, his lights black as he established connection between every known Autobot on Earth. Air Raid's end of the bond was painfully silent. And Skydive led the rest of his brothers on a second pass over the battleground.

"Nothing" Slingshot pronounced in satisfaction, tilting his wing and looping around the tail of his leader. "We got them good."

"Ratchet won't be pleased."

"Yeah well you have to explain the piles of scrap; they have to be one."

Skydive let out a dangerous rumble and the smallest of the Aerialbots fell back behind his left wing, "he won't care as long as they're alive and kicking for him to make adjustments. It's their fault for not getting out of the way in time."

"There's too much interference," Fireflight inserted lazily. "There is no reply from Lieutenant Jazz."

Skydive reached a decision.

"Silverbolt, you're in charge."

The Concorde shuddered, his massive body cleaving through the air. Fireflight took his place behind his larger brother's right wing, unperturbed at the sudden shift in the team dynamic. Slingshot squawked indignantly, transforming in midair.

"What? The big coward won't even let us get close...!"

The grey raptor hit his impertinent mech over the helm and began his descent.

"_Precisely_"

.

Sam Witwicky woke up in stages.

The first to return was his sense of smell, the acrid stench of petroleum and what he would later learn to be processed energon. He flailed, pinned by something soft yet unyielding. Then his sense of taste returned as he dragged his mouth all over the hot gravel of Nevada.

He choked and spat, inhaling dirt as he tried to get the gritty sand off his tongue. He curled his hand beneath his chin, lifting his face a little away from the ground and heaved; the sour flavor of spit and vomit dribbling down the corner of his lips. His face felt like it had been rubbed raw and he was pretty sure his nose had been broken. It was like the first time he had gone out to drink and returned home completely blitzed, resulting in a lifelong curfew as long as his parents lived.

He let out a whimper as his nerve endings came alive with the thought, the feeling between his legs making him wish that he could curl up and suck on his thumb. He cracked his eyes open, realizing that remaining beneath an overturned jeep (holy _fuck_, was it possible to get in so many car accidents in one day?) was not anywhere near the realms of safe. He saw nothing but a world edged in sepia and thought that he had gone blind, then sound returned to him—pandemonium.

A pair of hands thrust beneath his armpits and yanked him out. He stood unsteadily on his feet, too shocked to be amazed at finding himself relatively intact. His savior, a dirty-faced captain, rattled out questions and slapped him several times. He blinked then glared, having lost all feeling in his cheeks but somehow sensing that he should be affronted. The man gave him a wry smile and pulled him down as another explosion rocked their world.

Sam yelled unintelligibly, citing all reasons why he should NOT be drafted into an intergalactic war—he didn't have a car, he'd never had sex, his mom had wanted a Chihuahua. Captain Lennox kept an elbow on his spine as he shouted orders, pulling out a glock on his shoulder holster and tossing it to another man pressed against the jeep.

"Oh god Michaela!"

He saw the dark spill of her hair against the orange earth as men tried to get her out from beneath the damaged vehicle. Her face was dirty and smudged as her eyes roved, half-blind, seeking relief. He grabbed her bloody hand and the broken fingers and let go, her voice wet and cracking like something from the set of a cheap slasher film.

One of the soldiers, a blond, shushed her as he thumbed a throbbing pulse point and slipped a needle beneath. Sam felt sick as her hand tried to squeeze. With a hail of god-knows-what flying over their heads, they were immobilized. Already, there was one man with his head missing lying a few feet away. Another, a kid like them honestly, was screaming himself hoarse as Agent Jackson tied the stump of his arm with a tourniquet.

Sam's hand scrabbled at the side of the jeep, seeking purchase, something to hold on to as he tried to push the vehicle off the girl. Mikaela stared at him with glazed blue eyes, her makeup long gone but her mascara resistant enough to frame her eyes like smoky kohl.

"It's okay! I won't leave you! I'm going to get you out of there okay?"

Mikaela let out a dry 'uh huh' and Sam tried really hard to ignore all the 'it's too dangerous here' and 'we've got to move' flitting over his head. Movies made life seem so easy. There was always something to save the stupid teenagers from whatever corner they forced themselves into—_you hear that fate?_ And so Sam began to dig.

The ground was hard and packed despite everything. The loose, grainier layer had been blown up into the atmosphere during the bombing. Had they still been there, on the ground where they should have been, Mikaela might have had the chance to wiggle free.

Sam swallowed, "Shit, where... BARRICADE!"

Nothing, then the jeep moved and the teen forgot to breathe.

.

'Commander Starscream?'

Right, he really hadn't expected a reply.

'Barricade!'

He was probably dead.

'Frenzy!'

Soundwave would kill them all.

Bonecrusher sat up from where he had been kissing the aft of a very attractive but equally dead drone. "This just isn't my cycle." He complained, wiping his face on the back of his servos as his body rejected contaminated energon. "Frag all" he spat, passionately resentful. His mood only worsened when his sensors belatedly quipped—'Autobot signature: _detected_'

Jazz chuckled,

"Looks like somebody's in a bad mood."

Ironhide raised an optic ridge as he aimed his arm cannons at the constructicon.

"You feeling lucky, punk?"

.

Starscream fired his null rays point blank.

The Autobot roared and let go of his throat as a choked beam of energy seared through the layers of proto-mass. Starscream leaned back on his pedes, ducking when the mech swung his fists. He hooked his left servo, still taut and aching from the rebound, beneath the Prime's chassis and sank deep into the lines and delicate circuitry.

Optimus Prime bled heavily, energon and slippery mech fluid pouring over the sharp angles of Starscream's armor. For a moment, he felt terribly proud, knowing that he had caused the Seeker's decadence into war. He looked like a proper warrior, his iridescent armor frightening to behold. Then he struck the murderous Decepticon across the jaw, stunning him as he tackled his midsection.

They fell into a sprawl, the top-heavy Seeker model giving away easily to gravity. Optimus Prime dug his fingers into the reinforced wings as Starscream kicked, the bird-like toes snagging the edge of a vent and ripping it free from the Autobot's side. Optimus roared in pain and Starscream along with him in a silent shriek. The lights on the Seeker's wings burned dull red. He choked, bright foam gathering at his mandibles as he tore at the still open chassis; the angle all wrong to reach the Prime's spark but enough for him to rip out the shrinking tendrils of proto-mass and sheet metal. It reminded him of a statue he had once seen in Kaon, near the military academy. It was the image of two mechs dueling to the death, found later dead in each other's embrace. It was a common euphemism for war, never ending, no clear outcomes. He wondered if they were to die like that, under hundreds of tons of concrete, on a planet too primitive for a true designation.

The Prime punched him in the face again, breaking his war mask as his body ejected the components of his vocalizer. He struggled weakly, faint from energon loss, sluggish on the ground breathing staid air. He raised his right servo and charged a more destructive torque rifle, the telltale whine sounding like the death of a distant star to his damaged receivers.

"I made you." The Autobot overlord rumbled, staring down at him with something akin to fury and hunger. He fingered the jetformer's shattered canopy, the faux seating and the control panels beneath. "And I can unmake you."

Starscream's optics were pale, the signal lights on his wings dimmed. He glared, parting his mandibles and spitting out rivulets of electric blue. Optimus Prime leaned in close, sneering as he held the Seeker's head firm with his hand. "Yes... that is the look I wanted on you." What little static he produced was strangled as the Autobot peeled back his armor and carved out the remainder of his vocal processors.

"What was that? Couldn't quite catch it."

Starscream let out a soft click, his right servo wavering. The bars on the energy output receded, the unused energy absorbed by his starving body. "Yes..." the corrupt Prime purred, petting the low-rising chevrons like one might a server-hound.

The walls shook and collapsed from the force of the explosion. Sunlight streamed in, dusty motes coloring the air gold. It warmed his frame and was swiftly processed into fuel. But that wasn't what caught his attention as a great shadow fell over them both; the Lord High Protector had finally arrived.

"Megatron"

Optimus Prime spat out the name like a curse.

"Brother"

'Lord Megatron!'

Megatron spared his second a solitary glance before stepping forward with his servos outstretched as though to embrace his fallen sibling. He transformed, just as Optimus Prime locked his hands around his waist, carrying him away into the sun. Incredulous, Starscream staggered to his feet, intending to follow just as he felt the familiar energy of the cube tug at his spark.

.

Frenzy warbled in pain, his spidery limbs twisted and curled against his main body as he extracted himself from his host. The drone let out a mechanical sigh, its broken headlights blinking before fading. Frenzy considered the drone for a moment and pierced an energon line. He swiftly began to hail his fellow Decepticons on different frequencies, stopping immediately when he realized that something was jamming their signals.

A heavy pede (to be fair, anything bigger than a toaster was heavy to him) landed on his body, flattening him like a bug. He wailed as a hand picked him up, messily separating his helm from his support column.

"Well, well, well, what have we got here?"

Jolt peered into the cassetticon's face obnoxiously. "How did you hijack the drone like that? They're programmed to self-destruct if they were ever compromised and you little guy, is definitely a reason for deactivation."

"_Eat it._"

Jolt scowled and squeezed just enough to bend the orbital sockets.

"Ho, so you do talk."

He bit the Autobot's thumbs. The medic-in-training had the gall to look amused. "Wonder what Soundwave would say if you ended up dead like the other little guy."

"..."

"You should have seen it. He was just screaming in the end you know? Like when you dump a litter of cyber-kittens in the Acid Wastes."

Frenzy spat a bolt in the Chevron's optic.

"Why you little..."

The rest of the sentence was caught off as something exploded in his face; tearing off his facial plates and laying bare the wires and circuitry beneath.

"Hey! Pick on someone your own size!"

Jolt dropped Frenzy at his pedes and kicked him away. He turned towards the group of humans, glaring at the one holding a grenade launcher on his shoulders. He cracked his electric whip burning furrows into the arid earth.

"Like _you_?"

.

Barricade hurt—everywhere.

And it didn't help that every once in a while, the pesky Arcee drones would hit an actual target; namely him and his aft literally hung out to dry. He didn't want to move. Honestly, it hurt to think about moving, it hurt to think. But the human younglings were calling and they sounded terrible. Spark flickered behind his broken optics and he muttered a mangled '_what's up?_' if only to stop Sam from screaming so close to his audio receivers. Only the words came out more as an undignified '_meergh_' and he stopped trying, content on contemplating less than a nano-second left on his lifespan and if it wasn't dangerous for Mikaela to be there beneath the tangle of him and the jeep, being force-fed energon.

He was sick of hurting, he was sick of fighting. Sure, it was fun sparring with Crasher every once in a while—she was hot and it was the only time he had her undivided attention. He also liked putting Bonecrusher's processors on the fritz whenever he performed an underhanded move the constructicon had not been expecting. But this was different; he was a physicist, a scientist, and the pilot for ships. His frame had never been meant for war, pits, half the time, his programming was busy telling him to run.

At best, he was a tactician—though dubious considering the situation so far. At worst, he was superfluous to the cause. His vents rattled as his systems overheated and looked down at the girl who was looking up with a similarly dead expression.

Oh right, he was on top of her. Way to go Barricade, he should really roll off or something before she off-lined permanently from suffocation or whatever it was that fleshlings died by.

"_Run_" He croaked, seeing Air Commander Starscream in a wholly new light. He shuddered at the sudden sting of a projectile in his backstrut. Sam was dancing, or maybe not. He was gesturing wildly at himself before turning back. He let out an inquisitive chirp, his fractured left optic giving him a half a dozen dancing Sams across his vision. "..._Srsly gllck_..." His processors began to die down, his spark sputtering sporadically. "..._easy_..."

"...COME ON!"

Sam slammed the cube against the his chassis, flooding him with a wave of golden energy.

Barricade came back online with an all too human gasp, sputtering as the boy fell on his ass in surprise.

"What the frag just happened?"

.

Silverbolt was a coward, plain and simple. He was afraid of being in the air, afraid of being forced to take flight. Part of that was due to his shuttle programming, the other was the instability stemming from being part of a whole. It was never mentioned explicitly, though Ratchet—back when he was in his right processors—explained that they were the first of a new generation of flyers, mechs based off of the critically endangered Seekers. He knew that a string of failures had preceded the dubious success and he knew that they were far from perfect. But he also knew that despite all their shortcomings, he would never enjoy being a free mech. He would die before he let his brothers leave him.

Fireflight hummed, as though sensing his giant brother's despondency. Slingshot growled and cursed, his temper frayed short. Silverbolt pictured a clean landing strip in his processors and calmed himself.

"What is it Fireflight?"

"...A funny sort of reading."

That was remarkably vague, even for the air-headed flyer.

"Yes?"

"Probably a flock of organic flyers or a vapor trail in the shape of Praxus skyline, who gives a frag?"

"This could be important."

"The Decepticons are down there. Starscream is otherwise occupied by our absent brother. Nothing can touch us up here."

"Two moving objects approaching rapidly—"

"You were saying, Slingshot?"

The Decepticon reinforcements had arrived.

.

"_Sam? No matter what happens, I'm glad you wanted to walk me home..."_

"Kid? I'm sorry, you can't help her now."

They reached a decision. They were too vulnerable out in the open, they had to go back.

Barricade crouched down and transformed. His black-and-white painting was scuffed, but he was structurally sound. The All Spark had restored him and despite all his misgivings about being revived by a cube of unknown properties, he felt better than he had in orns. He honked impatiently as Mikaela was carefully loaded into his backseat along with a blond medic who curled up on the floor looking as though the upholstery would turn around to bite him any moment.

Sam shoved himself into the front seat while Secretary Keller got in the passenger side. Time was of the essence, there would be no soldiers to accompany them other than the blond medic. A dirty-faced lieutenant was just about to hand over the All Spark when with a torn scream, he was ripped from the earth. Barricade swore and hit reverse, barely missing the morons who were standing behind him. His passengers lurched in their seats, Mikaela whimpering pitifully as she slid against the leather.

"I believe this belongs to _us_." The humans scrambled for cover at the sight of yet another transformer in their midst. Barricade winced when the All Spark, with the unfortunate human, was swallowed up in the Aerialbot's talons. Skydive allowed himself a victorious smirk as blood dripped down his servos. Then the mech stilled, staring blankly at his claws as a striking energy field pulsed through him in waves.

"What in the _pits_—?"

"It's like when Starscream touched it." Sam said in awe as the minute damages in the mech's physiology were repaired before their very eyes. Barricade couldn't help but speculate. The Aerialbots had been based off of blueprints of Seekers, more specifically Starscream. In the ancient times, a Seeker was said to have been created for one purpose only—to search for deposits of energon throughout the galaxy. They were basically glorified fuel tanks for the All Spark. _And that's what it was doing_, the police cruiser realized. The All Spark was feeding.

But it was never the cube's intention to kill Skydive, only to suck him dry. The jetformer slowly regained control of his limbs and fired up his thrusters, intent on carrying it out of the atmosphere where no one could dare follow. Suddenly, with a sound of vacuum, Starscream appeared and both flyers went down in a tangle of limbs.

As soon as the ground stopped shaking, the soldiers had their puny weapons trained on the two mechs. Barricade rumbled, if Sam hadn't been so busy hugging Secretary Keller, he might have said that the black-and-white mech was laughing.

"Magnificent landing, the Flyer Alliance would give you a standing 'o' if they could see you now. I'd give it a 10, anyone else?" A few laughed nervously at Barricade's gleeful tone but clammed up one Starscream turned his murderous gaze towards them. Privately the Air Commander commed,

'_Not_... another word out of you.'

"My lips are sealed." Barricade said agreeably.

Starscream let out a pained whine, his left ankle collapsing beneath him when he stood up. Hissing fitfully, he reached out with his servo and collected the cube from where it was laying cradled in Skydive's grasp. The Aerialbot leader struggled to rise but gave up when Starscream placed a warning claw at the base of his helm. "Don't touch it, it's still pretty hungry."

The Seeker shot the mech a look equivalent to _don't you think I know that_? Barricade shrugged inwardly. "Just saying! It bled Skydive dry, you don't look so hot either..." he caught himself before he could let out the affectionate nickname, "uhh... Commander Starscream."

Before he could respond with a dry quip however, Starscream staggered as a shell exploded against his head.

"Starscream!"

The blue Arcee, her facial plates arranged in savage delight, howled and launched herself at the Decepticon Air Commander. Confused and disoriented, Starscream let the femme hang on the edge of his wings as he let out an explosive mental cry. Barricade would later learned that it was a Seeker SOS. But the Seekers were dying breed; there was no one around to hear it. There was no help coming and even if there was, it would have been too late.

Clinging to the flyer's shoulders, the blue Arcee attached a small explosive to his hips before shimmying around to his front. His processors misaligned, Starscream did the only thing he could do. The Seeker threw himself into the air with one working leg, transforming one gear after another as though he had forgotten how altogether. Those on the ground stared in abject horror as the jet became a mere speck then disappeared altogether. Belatedly, the three Aerialbots still in the air had rallied themselves in pursuit.

With nearly half their force incapacitated and the All Spark once again MIA, Acting Commander Lieutenant Jazz made his decision.

"AUTOBOTS RETREAT!"

_Epilogue_

Their victory—rather their defiance against losing outright—was bittersweet. Too much had been lost to gain nothing. The humans hadn't appreciated their help, though in the light of what happened; Barricade thought they should have been groveling on their hands and knees. But with one of their number definitely dead, another on the verge and still others injured, they were grounded and at the tender mercy of the native organics.

"I must be the worst Lord-Protector to ever take office." Megatron said bleakly as they watched the corpses of Ironhide, Bumblebee, Skydive, the purple Arcee, and her drones being lowered into the Laurentian Abyss. His brother had escaped to fight another day alongside a handful of other survivors that had taken advantage of the confusion that had followed Air Commander Starscream's disappearance.

"To be fair Lord Megatron," Blackout interjected, "Commanders Jetfire and Nightbird were both peacetime commanders. Sub-commander Powerglide of course, defected of his own accord." Somehow, this observation failed to cheer the Decepticon leader as his mandibles snapped shut with a wry twist.

"What he means to say is," Barricade added hastily, newly promoted as the _comparably_ emphatic member of the strike team in the lieu of their second-in-command's probable death. "That Air Commanders Jetfire, Nightbird and Powerglide were all Seekers of your father's reign. Skywarp's still alive."

"Debatable" Blackout snorted.

Barricade glared and continued softly,

"'Screamer isn't dead yet, he can't be."

"No," Blackout said grimly, "it is simply a matter of locating him through at least six quadrants and that's not even considering the possibilities of the cube augmenting his warp drive. We should count our blessings that this isn't Commander Skywarp we're chasing through the stars, he most certainly would have jumped to another universe altogether."

"Don't you dare give me the spiel about probabilities, I'm a physicist dammit, I know! But aren't we forgetting something here?" Barricade fidgeted beneath the Lord-Protector's intense gaze, well aware of the fact that he had no value on the strike force other than his processors. "The space bridge technology," he said in a hushed tone, eyeing the fleshlings suspiciously. Sam was a little ways away, serving as Frenzy's legs for the time being until the casseticon's body healed or his girlfriend woke up—whichever came first. "Isn't based on distance, it's about _time_."

Blackout shook his head,

"Then the situation is more dire than we initially thought. Air Commander Starscream is not lost someplace, he is lost some_when_."

.

"Sir? Unidentified flying object in-bound from the Florida Keys."

"That sounds real friendly." Someone muttered.

"Can we get a visual?"

"No sir, it's moving too fast."

"_It's fine,_" Megatron interrupted, his disembodied voice loud through the speakers. "_He is one of mine._"

Captain Davison frowned and wracked his brain for the name of the only other flight-capable Decepticon he had on board at the moment.

"Is it Blackout?"

The Lord-Protector's answer was long in coming.

"...No"

.

The deck shuddered and groaned.

Blackout had politely declined on this venture, citing his pet Scorponok's agitation onboard an aircraft carrier and the drone's tendency to burrow into things. Considering that the heap of scrap metal was the only thing between him and the deep, blue sea, Barricade enlisted himself to the cause of keeping an eye on Mikaela's ADD boyfriend. Also, it had been a while since he had seen this level of excitement in the earthling adolescent. Faced with the real possibility that Mikaela might never walk again, Sam had been subdued, at odds with the initial image of a loud and stupid youngling he had first met. If Bonecrusher or Starscream had been there, they might have been observant enough to tease. But that was then, this was now.

"...My creator's going to hate me 'cause I couldn't say no..."

"C'mon, you said yourself that there's only one thing that could move this fast!"

"Including Aerialbots—! Did I mention that they want our heads on a silver platter for offing Skydive?"

But the Autobot flyers rarely flew alone and after the loss of their leader, he would be surprised to see them anywhere in the near future.

High Lord-Protector Megatron was already out on deck, seemingly unconcerned by the buffeting winds. To his surprise, Barricade observed that the mysterious flyer had already arrived, surrounded by a throng of human soldiers demanding his identity. The flyer ignored them and addressed the Decepticon leader directly. He seemed to be injured, his silhouette interrupted sporadically by sparks flickering up and down the long slash down his chassis. It was a Seeker, but not the one they had been waiting for. In fact, it might have been more correct to say that it was the one Seeker whose visit they had been _dreading_.

Sam sprung forward, his ratty sneakers slipping on the rain-sluiced metal.

"Starscream?"

The Seeker took a step back as though struck. Blue optics narrowed reprovingly from high above and he could see Megatron, at the periphery of his vision, turning his jaw stiffly. Though his left wing remained dim, the jet's right lit up with the full brilliance that rivaled that of newborn nebulae. In an obtrusive and blunt voice the he demanded,

"Designation: Skywarp. Who are you?"

.

**A.N.:** And that's a wrap—!

When I first started writing this, I thought it would be a somewhat cracky project, dotted with my dry and nonexistent sense of humor. Then the conclusion turned out to be like this, dramatic in its depressing-ness with 'Screamer MIA or KIA, Bonecrusher unintentionally KIA, Frenzy critically injured with the option of dying still. Barricade lived because I liked him and this is his story as much as anyone else's at this point. Brawl lived because he... had such an insignificant role that I didn't even think much of it. I think he did have the dubious honor of offing Ironhide but it's just as likely that Scorponok ambushed him during a fight... Megatron is pretty much self-explanatory and Blackout lived because he has an awesome name—I needed somebody to fight the Aerialbots after all.

So I might have been thinking about a sequel to this, what do you guys think?

Enjoy your New Years and thank you for reading :D

And yes... I am very sorry that I took a six month hiatus.

.

**FlamingBitch1408 **- Ah, thank you. Is that official or...?

**Fire From Above** - Well... he survived. That's either fortunate or unfortunate I'm not quite sure which xD

**9aza **- The purple Arcee has henceforth been named the _Arcee of many names_ or simply, the purple Arcee.

**Starfire201** - Teenagers ruin everything... in horror films. Since this story could be construed has fanmade horror -coughs- it's only fair right? But yes, I agree. Poor Starscream -shifty-

And thank you everyone else who reviewed. Sometimes the reviews were the only things that kept me writing. I had a blast and the earlier chapters of this story makes me cringe less than those from other fics... I count this as a win -runs-


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